Trial and Error
by Nostarah
Summary: Saint Luis is a center of bustling activity, including businesses like the Circus of The Damned, and Animator's Inc. Michael Fey Wong is but a young boy born into a world of vampires, zombies and shape shifters. Sometimes he gets a little out of hand.
1. Chapter 1  Hurt Me

The tile under his head really wasn't as cold as he thought it would be. Actually, the amount of water running in the showers kept it from being too cold, and he was glad. The shock of cold tile under his naked skin probably would have made Michael feel a lot worse about the whole thing. It was worse enough as it was without having that extra surprise against him. 

Michael Fey Wong, little black haired boy, skinny as a stick, pale as bleached daisies. His hair was down to his shoulders, straight and silky as shining black fabric. His mother always said he should cut it, but he loved his hair long. That way, he could run his hands through it. It just felt so cool, and it helped when he was nervous. Michael more than anything like being petted, which was too bad for him, being as nobody really felt the need to touch him, not unless they were punishing him. His parents, and the boys at school included.

He turned his husky blue eyes to the three figures above him. His eyes were touched at the edge of his iris with a thick line of dark blue, and a ring of white around his pupil. His newest friend Elizabeth told him that his eyes looked 'so cool they could kill' but he didn't really see that as a compliment. Michael didn't really like thinking his eyes could kill people. Wasn't that a kind of bad thing? Though, he supposed she wasn't serious about that part.

The three boys were grinning down at him as he hunched in on himself, whimpering as blush thick as icing spread across his face. He didn't much like that they were staring at him, and worse was the funny flutter in his stomach at the raw pain in his back. Kavin McGinnis, a tall Irish boy with so many freckles you'd think they'd take over his face and declaire dominion over him, had slapped him open handed so hard he thought he should have heard a bone cracking. Though Michael was much tougher than that, and he already felt the sting progressing into the soft ache of a bruise. He always healed like that, so much faster than normal human. But they were laughing now, apparently his reaction of moaning and falling down had sparked much more interest. He didn't understand though.

What was that weird feeling? And why were the boys leering at him as if he were a girl who had pushed her skirt down after a wind? Michael never understood why boys liked that kind of thing. It was just weird. And rude. They couldn't be more civilized? Though the thought had made him laugh when he first thought it. Civilized...He had real guts thinking that, when he himself thought sleeping under people's beds and licking at his wounds was normal.

Richard Thomas, a boy short, squat, and toad-like, with a mess of black hair on his pudgy head, reached down, poking at the slightly bluish hand print on the boy's back, making him cry out and cringe again. "Aah man! Lookit him! He's a freakin masochist!" he stood back up, his blubbering laugh echoing off the tiled walls. Masochist? What was that? Everything today was just too confusing. Why were they being so mean to him?

"S-s-s-sto-sto-stop it.." he sputtered out, burying his face in his hands as that flutter rushed through his stomach again, making him want to roll over and throw up. There was an odd stirring between his legs, and he whimpered again, that soft puppy noise he hated so much. Nobody had been THIS mean to him in elementary. Thirteen and he was in his first year of High school. He had been excited. Thought he would get the chance to learn more, have so much fun in art, and maybe get to take special computer classes. The things they taught in elementary felt too much like kiddie games to him. Those silly work sheets with pictures on them. What was the deal with those?

But no. High school was worse. Everyone was always making fun of him, shoving him. It was like a war zone, and he was the enemy prisoner. In elementary people ignored you unless you made them interested somehow. He never raised his hand, just did his work, answered simply without embellishments when he was called on, and tried to just fade into the background. Michael was too shy to talk to anyone, let alone have friends. He just didn't create a big and wonderful impression of himself. He hadn't minded. Less to worry about without friends.

Michael was suddenly brought back from his musings with a swift kick to his poor bony butt, and he yelped, squeaking at the end with that odd whimper, scooting across the floor as he pressed hands over himself, turning wide and frightened eyes to the three boys. The tallest stepped forward, his short red hair wet and sticking around his head as if even with water in it it wouldn't behave. Andrew Collins, a boy that looked like he was fresh off the farm, and somehow more grown up than he actually was, had his hands on his hips, naked as the day he was born, where as the other boys at least sported towels. He had the perfect toned body of a basketball player, his dark brown eyes shining with humor. He looked like a boy who would grow up and be on the front of business magazines.

Only now, he looked like a naked flesh and blood nightmare. Michael swallowed, pulling his trembling bottom lip into his mouth as he pressed himself up against a wall, and squealed with the sudden touch of cold across his hurt back, scrambling to stand up away from the cold thing. Apparently the walls didn't get doused with enough water to get warm.

"God, look! You're right, Ricky." he pointed, hand motioning for Michael's lower quarters. The asian boy looked down, heart suddenly in his throat as he shot hands down with a girlish wail to cover himself, shivering with the sudden rush of body binding embarrassment. "Th-th-that's n-n-ne-ne-nev-never hap-p-pened be-be-before!" he stuttered out, bitting off his sentence with sudden deeper embarrassment as the three boys burst out laughing, Richard putting a hand to his forehead, Kavin wrapping arms around himself, and Andrew actually leaning down to put hands on his knees, as if he were out of breath.

"First one, Mikey? God, you're such a kid." Andrew stood back up, crossing arms around his chest before he took a step forward, his two friends standing back, grinning and chuckling to themselves. Michael turned his head, not wanting to watch the naked boy move toward him. He felt a hot flash through his stomach and he put hands across his belly, trying to sooth the motions away. His back throbbed, and he twitched, making him clasp his legs together suddenly, hands shooting down again. If he could have died right then, he would have gladly praised whatever deity had granted him mercy.

But then, god must not have been paying attention, as he seemed to go on living, and Andrew was still advancing on him. "Everyone knows you're gay, but god. Masochistic too? You're a real winner." he sneered, tears flowing down michael's face as he cringed, hunching his shoulders as if he would curl in on himself. The door to the locker room opened suddenly, and Andrew stopped, turning his head around to listen for foot steps.

"Hey mikey, you in here?" the cool tones of Ezzy's voice came echoing in from the doorway, and michael suddenly felt like he would jump for joy, wag his tail. But he resisted that bit of nonsense. "Y-y-y-yeah!! C-c-coming!" he called back, suddenly hurrying past the three boys.

Kavin grabbed his arm and squeezed, digging fingernails into him as he whimpered and tugged. "Remember mikey, we aren't done here. Go have fun with your little friend." he laughed at the sudden thicker blush on michael's face, then let go so the skinny thing stumbled forward, rushing to dig his gym clothes out of this locker, throwing them on with himself still wet from head to toe, making the dark grey shirt and shorts wet, pulling his red sneakers on before dashing out of the locker room, sparing just enough time to close his locker, making sure it was secure before scurrying out.

Bursting from the door he nearly did a full turn around, his arm the pivot point in another thick grip. He screamed, high and terrified before Ezzy's face came into view. He gave her an apologetic look, shifting from one foot to the other as he sucked at the corner of his lip, eyes glancing back at the locker room door. He could smell the boys, knew they were still in there, even hear them laughing. Laughing about him.

Elizabeth, Ezzy, was a Spanish girl with long lashes, a thin wide mouth, and a pretty and fair face, her chocolate brown eyes like deep shining pools in the beautiful scenery of her face. She was strong, but not overly muscled. Very much a punk rock kind of girl. 15, and in her first year of high school. She had taken to michael the first time she had met him, in the halls fiddling with his locker. He was stuttering and growling at it, trying to get the lock off. It had just been the cutest thing on the planet. It wasn't until after getting it open that she realized he could have been her little sister, with how similar they looked. Well...brother. His voice had surprised her.

"Mikey, why do you let them pick on you? Really, you should just rub it in their faces." she said, letting go of his arm, noticing the quickly disappearing half moon indents in his skin. She shook her head, the dangly skull earing bouncing around. "Y-you're not sup-p-posed ta wear that f-f-for gym Ezzy." he pointed at the earing, and she rolled her eyes, moving hands up to pull it away, stopping for a moment to stuff it in her shoe.

In standing up, she couldn't help but notice the odd and slightly protruding front of the boy's shorts, and with a wide sly grin she pulled him in against her, arm going around her shoulders. "And just what, pray tell, has brought about your new change in...wardrobe?" she asked, making the last word sound as thick with double meaning as she could. It wasn't that she wanted to make him feel bad, Ezzy just couldn't help herself. Couldn't help but play with his little quirks. Often, she just called him cute. And there was plenty cute in a thirteen year old gay Asian boy with an erection.

Michael squeaked, and he wasn't sure how many times he had done it in the past twenty minutes, but he was beginning to get tired of it. "E-ezzy!" he whined. But she pulled him in against her and kissed him on the forehead. "Aww, come on mikey. You know I don't mean it like they do. It's just.." she suddenly made a sniffle noise, and hugged him tighter, shaking a fist by her chest dramatically. "My mikey's discovered the wonderful world of sex!" and he pushed at her, shoving her away as his eyes went wide.

"I-i-i...I don't know. I.." he stuttered, unable to make his thoughts form into words, and she crossed her arms over her chest, moving in to pull him against her again. "Aww, come on mikey. It isn't bad. In fact, it can be very fun." she wriggled her eyebrows at him, and he blushed again. It wasn't that he thought of her that way, but thinking of himself that way, that was weird. "I-i-i..b-b-but..Y-you don't u-u-underst-st-stand.." he murmured, fiddling with the drawstring on his pants.

She gave him a questioning look, and he sighed, swallowing the sick feeling in his stomach. "Th-th-they hurt m-me.." she suddenly had a thick look of anger on her face and he had to grab her with both hands and plant his feet to keep from being pulled forward. Inhuman strength didn't do a lick of good when you're only four foot, six inches, and ninety-six pounds. Michael scrunched his eyes closed, and Ezzy stopped at his next stuttering words. "N-n-not like THAT Ezzy!!!"

She turned, a sort of apologetic smile on her face as she stopped. She was already five foot three, and sill growing. She grabbed the Asian boy and tossed him up on her shoulders, carrying him piggy backed as if he weighed nothing. "Ooh? How did you mean then?" she grinned, giving a hop to make him wrap his arms around her, heading toward the girl's room in the gym. They were taking actual honest to god gymnastics, and michael loved it. The girls never thought he was showing off. Well most of them didn't. Michael got to be in the girl's class, because the boys were always too hard on him, and he was always such a stuttering pile of embarrassed mush that he simply froze, and couldn't move. He was so deeply frightened around the boys, afraid of what they would think, afraid of what they would say to him, the looks they gave him. Even the boys he knew were gay. In fact, those bothered him the most.

Once, michael actually started crying and shivering just from one look from a brown haired boy, who he knew was gay. He had wanted to sink into the floor and cry. So, the two separate gym teachers had gotten together, and decided for the good of his physical education, the girls would simply have to put up with him.

"W-w-well...Kav slapped me..an I-i-i think h-h-he was t-tryin ta r-r-really h-h-hurt me...but it...I.." he wriggled uncomfortably, that funny soft feeling in his stomach again as he thought about it. Ezzy giggled, wrapping his arms around her neck. "Aww..Mikey. They're just gonna hurt you more now. You know what you should do?" her voice was high and cheerful, and she turned her head to look at him as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "...what..?" he murmured, a sulky look on his face. He did not like the idea of the boys teasing him more than they already did. Only three months into the first year of high school, and they were already calling him their favorite game.

"well, first of all, stop stuttering all the time. Yeah yeah, I know, c-c-can't." And michael had been just about to say that exact thing.

"BUT! You should rub it in their faces." the giggled, a decidedly evil sound as they made their way through the doorway into the room set about with all the different pieces of equipment, michael hopping down from her back at an exasperated look from the teacher, Mrs. Mathers. Michael came around front and gave Ezzy a look of confusion. "W-what do ya m-m-mean?" his head bobbed forward a moment with the effort of trying to talk normal.

"Make kissy faces at them. Tell them you like it. Ask them if they want to see you naked. Offer everything you can, make it real dirty. It'll scare the shit out of them." she giggled, and michael quirked an eyebrow at her, crossing his hands over his chest. "C-c-can't do that!!" he sounded desperate and shocked at the whole idea. How could he? It was...he couldn't play with his own preferences like that. They would...

"But it's not like you like them, right? So it's not personal. And if it isn't personal...you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You don't feel like asking the cashier at the store to pay you back when they get the money for it, do you?" she grinned, as if this were the most brilliant idea on the planet. Michael tilted his head to the side, and smiled, wide and happy. Ezzy nearly squealed at the sight of that smile. It was like seeing the sun rise right after a rain.

"Guess you're right, E-ezzy." he smiled, putting hands on his hips. He wasn't sure why the idea just worked, but it made sense. Sure, he figured it would be hard at first, but he was willing to try anything to get those three assholes off his back. The thought made him put a hand to his mouth, as if he had said the words out loud. Michael wasn't really one for swearing, but those three...they just bugged him so much..

A basket ball came rolling across the floor and through the doorway, bouncing up and hitting Ezzy in the leg. A voice called out from the main room, but it echoed so much between there and where they were that michael couldn't tell who it belonged to. Snatching the ball from Ezzy who gave him curious eyes, michael turned toward the doorway, walking over to lean on it. Already his methodical mind was going to work, and he grinned when he saw Andrew making his way to the doorway. The red haired boy smiled, putting his hands out for the ball. "Hey, toss it back, pixie boy!" he grinned wider, as if his mind were racing with more and more insults. "Or do you want me to come over and force you?" his tone was light, normal, but michael saw the look in his eyes, that dark look that said 'I know you'd like it.'

With a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest, michael pushed himself away from the doorway, putting the ball up on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the rough bumpy surface. He forced a grin on his face, letting his eyes slip slightly toward that amber of panther, letting the cool rush of cat push in his mind. He knew the other boy couldn't see it from there, and he needed that cool wave to do it. Or else he would have screamed and ran.

"Awww..Andy doesn't want me to play with his balls...?" he called, voice cool. He didn't have the right voice for seduction yet, but he pushed, trying to make his voice as full of sex as he could, putting his free hand on his hip, fingers pulling at the waist of his shorts as if he were simply scratching lazily, running his tongue out over his bottom lip. Something he usually got teased for, but he made it slow, lingering.

Andrew's eyes went wide, stopping in his tracks at the odd behavior from the asian boy. This wasn't normal, and he suddenly felt like he were a sweet, and michael couldn't wait to unwrap him. The look in the asian boy's eyes made him squirm. He wasn't gay, but michael looked like a barely teen-aged girl, and the grin wasn't helping his mind much. "Listen, just give me the ball, you little fag." his eyes glanced behind michael to the Spanish girl, her arms crossed under her breasts, a wide smile on her face.

Michael smirked, tossing the ball, which sailed and hit the other boy in the chest, making him make a small grunt as he caught it, nearly stumbling in his rush to get back to the rest of the boys. Michael felt light in the head, suddenly dizzy, and sort of like he was going to pass out. That had been way too scary for him. That push of panther seeped back in, and he turned, swaying a little as if he had had too much cough medicine.

"FUCK michael, that was fantastic! You're a really great actor, you know that?" she turned, scooping him in under her arm again, Mrs. Mathers giving them a look that could have melted steel plated doors. He always thought that woman must be schizophrenic, with how different her emotions were. One minute bouncing and cheerful, the next, stern and cold. He supposed it was the sort of thing you got after spending years as a girl's gym teacher. Girls were just way too emotional.

With a thick blush on his face again, michael passed a hand up through his nearly dried hair, grinning. "That w-w-was scary.." he murmured. Ezzy laughed, that loud and cheerful sound making him feel like he'd just won the olympics. He knew the boys would still be teasing him, probably would still hurt him. But maybe after a while, they wouldn't do it anymore. Maybe he would have to practice on more people. People who didn't try to hurt him and tease him. After all, what could it hurt?

Michael Fey Wong. 13 year old Japanese/Chinese boy, ahead of other boys his age as far as schooling went. He looked like he could have easily been a girl, with the right outfit, maybe pigtails. He still had that baby look on him, and it was what usually made people tease him. He loved to draw, read, and listen to music. There was nothing more special to michael than running around in the woods behind his house, or sitting napping up in a tree. Michael very much loved the outdoors, and often begged his grandfather to take him out to camp, or just spend the day outside.

But none of that was really what was special about michael. Not what he thought was most special about himself. Michael lived in a world full of odd things; Vampires, zombies, fairies, real honest to god demons. He still wasn't sure if there was a god, or even if there was just one, but he supposed he would know that when he died, so he didn't much care. In this world of myths and legends birthed into the light of day, in the exception of vampires, michael thought he was pretty special. Michael was himself, an animalistic shape shifter. Not like a lycanthrope, where they were like two people battling it out in his head; no. Michael was his animal forms. Of which he had a total of two; Panther and wolf; but he loved them anyways. He always thought with that soft push of animal instincts, even more than normal people did. The want to run and hide when he was hurt, the want to bite and claw when he was angry, the push of a purr in his throat when he was happy. He didn't just have animal forms, he WAS them. To the ultimate extreme. Above that, he was human, and it was magic inside him.

He had to eat a lot more than normal people did, more often. He had heightened senses; hearing, sight, smell, taste. He had a higher metabolism, and his body ran hotter than normal, and his mother had had to send a note with him the first day of school, saying the nurse wasn't to ever handle him, because of religious reasons. They didn't want him getting pulled out, in suspicion of being a lycanthrope. He had asked why they couldn't just draw blood, and send the test results. Lycanthropy was a disease, and showed up in blood scans, it just didn't communicate between people like aids did. You had to be in animal form, or even half way for it to work. And even then, it didn't always work. You could get torn into and still come back. Or you could get a single scratch, and turn the next full moon into whatever had attacked you.

But that was all besides the point. Michael was simply magic, and his mother just didn't want to deal with it all. She had said something about people not distinguishing between monsters, and he had slapped her, kicked her in the shins, and run off to the copse of trees out behind his house. Michael wasn't a monster, and he wasn't going to ever stand for anyone ever saying it. Not even his mother.

There was a tight anger deep inside michael, and so much thick embarrassment that he couldn't function as a normal human being.Well, for now. He planned on changing that. A wink, a smile, a simple phrasing of double meanings, and he would be all better.

See me bow, see me dance, and my mask never slips.

Yeah.


	2. Chapter 2  Know Me

Michael had wowed the girls with his play atop the balance beam, the only piece of gymnastics equipment that didn't make him feel like a complete fruit. Sure sure, other men could probably go for the other ones, but he always got dizzy, the feeling of blood suddenly flung into his feet making him feel sick. Mrs. Mathers always told him that he would get used to it, but he just wasn't interested.

Most times, he would simply sleep on the beam when it wasn't in use, and the teacher let him. She found it was easier to just let the boy rest. Michael tended to get testy between first period and gym, and she didn't like to push him. There were times when he would stop off and start pulling candy or crackers from his pockets, and she would have to scold him, have him sit down in the little office just off the girl's locker room, but he went easy enough.

She wasn't sure about the boy. He was sweet, soft spoken, typically kept to himself, but she felt there was a deep anger in him. Some kind of conflict. He would often seem to have two opinions about a thing. A plain and simple thought, straight forward, and then a more diverse thought. As if he were trying to think past sudden urges. Teenage boys. The thought made her grin. She didn't have to deal with teenage boys that often, being with the girls, but she supposed it was probably what was wrong. That alone made her give into him more than she should, but she got away with it, saying to herself that it was just the best for him.

Michael rolled onto his side on the beam, a few of the girls watching him. He moved as if he were on a bed, the small surface somehow large enough for his slumber. He was small, skinny as a stick, and looked like he would tumble off any minute. And yet he managed to stay on the beam, arms extended above his head.

Ezzy had finished with her exercises, came over and thumped him on the head, effectively making him jump and wail as he soared through the air off the beam. As if he corrected himself in mid air, michael kicked his back legs out, landing crouched on feet and fingertips, staring wide eyed and flushed in fear at the now laughing spanish girl. Her arms went around her middle, doubling over in laughter as he pushed himself up, whipping his head around to look at the other occupants of the room, who were now staring.

"E-e-e-ezzyyyyy!! D-d-don't d-do that!!" he wailed, moving over to her as she held her arms out, taking him in around the shoulders, patting him on the head. He felt jittery and shakey inside, eyes flicking around to the other kids in the room as Mrs. Mathers came over, running a hand through her short greying red hair with an exasperated look on her face. Ezzy stopped, as if sensing the sudden tension in the boy, chocolate brown orbs lifting to watch the teacher come over.

"Can I see you two in my office please?" she motioned for them, turning to the rest of the class. "Heather, you are in charge for the next five minutes, until the bell rings. You know the drill. Wounds and fights come to me, otherwise, free time girls." the girls cheered, and nearly immediately a stereo in the corner flared to life, and the group of three trudged out, into the main room with confused looks from the boys following them.

Mrs. Mathers lead the two through the girl's locker room and into the windowed office, which seemed to always be overflowing with papers and pictures, trophies and misc. permission slips. She motioned to the two chairs near her small metal desk, and took her seat in the old, brown leather chair which groaned miserably under her weight. She wasn't a fairly large woman, but the chair was simply old, and looked like it belonged in a nineteen forties office building.

She allowed the two to settle slightly, going around her desk picking up random pieces of paper as if she were busy, until both eyes settled on her. Ezzy held herself in a slouch, one arm slung over the back of her chair, giving the woman bored yet curious eyes. She knew perfectly well why they were there, and a glance at Michael showed he had no idea.

The black haired asian boy was sitting straight, hands clasped tight between his knees, but there was a tension in his limbs that said he wanted to squirm, fidget, eyes a little wide. What had he done? Why did she call him in here? He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? His little show of catching himself had gone entirely unnoticed by him, seeming as thought it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have done. His mind raced, trying to pick something out, trying to find something, anything. He bit down at the corner of his lip and suddenly blurted out,

"I'm s-s-sorry! D-d-didn't mean t-t-ta b-be late, d-d-didn't.." and the fact that he thought THAT was what was wrong made the woman suddenly want to laugh. He just didn't know. Was it possible he didn't realize? It could be so. A child could translate any number of odd occurrences into normal day to day things. She motioned for him to calm down, so just sit quietly, and he did, licking out over his bottom lip in a motion she recognized as severe nervousness.

"It's alright michael. I just need to ask you something very important, alright?" she used a calm tone, piecing things together in her head as she leaned elbows on her desk, looking him in the eyes. He couldn't stand that stare, but he felt he had to keep looking, keep his eyes on her's. Ezzy shifted, and he flinched, as if expecting a blow, and both the females looked at him, twin expressions of confused and soft sadness. "It's alright, michael. You're not in trouble." the graying woman soothed, a soft smile on his face.

Ezzy sat, simply listening. she wanted to pounce, defend the boy, but she wasn't entirely sure what she was defending, and found that when things weren't being turned on her, that it was simply easier to just listen. It didn't mean she had to like it however, as a thick scowl spread over her face, a look of irritated disgust.

"Michael, I have to ask you, because it concerns me and I wouldn't be a fit teacher if I didn't ask, but..are you a lycanthrope?" she asked in as calm a tone as she could, folding her hands in her lap as she sat back. Michael's eyes went wide as he licked out over his lip again, shaking his head. "N-n-no ma'am." he stuttered out, voice a soft squeak. Ezzy rolled her eyes, and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees with her hands hanging down between her legs.

"Mrs. Mathers, have you ever seen a lycantrope?" she asked, voice a cool calm irritated tone. The woman nodded, shifting in her chair to regard the girl. She was the teacher, and she would not squirm like a child just because she was being questioned. "Of course I have. And I asked, because it is my responsibility to the children I am in care of to know just how hurt they could be. If michael ever got out of hand, what would he-" and she was cut off by a low whimper, michael's hands going to his ears. Shouting. He knew they would start shouting soon.

The two females looked at him, and he looked up, hands still clapped over his ears. "Don't fight, please, d-d-don't fight." he felt tears sting his eyes, and he sat up, a small shakiness in his limbs as he moved his hands away from his ears. Shouting in so small a space would give him such a bad headache, he would have had to go to the nurse for something, and she would give him that suspicious look again. "N-n-not a lycanthrope, b-but...Magic." he flinched, as if he expected a blow, when really he didn't want to see the angry look on her face. His mother had always told him normal people would hate him, hate what he was. He liked Mrs. Mathers, and didn't want to see a look of disgust on her face. She was just too nice to him, and he didn't think he could handle it.

There was a creak, rustle of clothing, and foot steps. Each step made him hunch his shoulders further, but they went around him. Was she circling him? Like a shark? Light dimmed against his eyelids, then a click and he looked up, light stinging his eyes again. She had pulled the shades down, and then went back to her chair. He knew why she had done it, and he was suddenly even more nervous. Was that even possible? He shook his head, confused more now than he had been before. Ezzy reached out and petted him like he were a nervous dog, fingers going through his hair. He relaxed under that touch, leaning back in his chair with a little slouch, folding his hands in his lip as Mrs. Mathers cast eyes between the two of them.

"Michael?" She spoke soft, as if he were an animal and she was afraid of spooking him. He rolled lazy eyes to her, a small grin touching the corners of his mouth. He rolled his head, giving Ezzy a better spot to pet, and she ran fingernails over his scalp, scratching at him as if he were a cat. This was a little weird for the woman, but she could push past that.

"I would like you to show me, if you could? I realize it may be embarrassing.." but michael jumped up, a look of sudden excitement and glee in his face that she never saw. Ezzy laughed, pulling her feet up into her chair to cross her legs, giving the woman a happy smile. "Magic words, Mrs. M. Mikey's got a big lust for letting his inner kitty out." She laughed at the sudden blush on michael's face at the word 'lust' and Mrs. Mather's surprised reaction to his sudden willingness and happiness.

"Go on, go on mikey. Show her. She's seen lycanthropes before, and I assume she knows what it's like when they change.." she looked at the woman with a question in her tone, and Mrs. Mathers nodded. This was what she needed. He said he was magic, and lycanthropes shifted messily. Clear fluid rushing out of their bodies as bones snapped and shifted, rearranging, growing, shrinking, knitting back together, fur pulling from the skin like water over a dry river bed, it was all very disturbing and painful looking if you weren't used to it. But afterwards, they were changed, and dry as baby powder. An amazing thin in it's own right.

Michael wriggled his fingers, obviously excited, itching for it, looking between the two other people until a nod from each made him squeal quietly under his breath, bitting at the corner of his lip with a look that made him all the more cuter, a grin touching the opposite corner of his mouth. He rolled his shoulders, popping his back and Mrs. Mather's was suddenly still, a look of resolve in her face. So he was just a lycanthrope, a child confused, and leaning on what he believed. She was about to sigh, when an odd ripple came over the boy, a liquid look as if he were behind a waterfall, and his body moved, silent and rippling, shifting, changing. He moved from human to panther as if he were going through a very intense video transition, skin moving and changing, black fur pulling itself over his skin as if the color of him were simply changing.

Husky blue eyes shifted to yellowed amber, bright as jewels as his face moved from human to feline, mouth opening in a lazy yawn to show top and bottom fangs as they grew. He moved down to all fours as the change grew thicker, clothes seemingly disappearing and blending and changing into that black furred coat. Finally he stretched, his chest going to touch down on the ground with his pawed legs stretching out in front of him, end up in the air, his thick black tail flicking with obvious pleasure back and forth. He was as big as a full adult panther, but he had the sleek and young build of a much younger male. He didn't have that heavy set of an adult, not yet.

A low purr sounded as Ezzy moved over, wrapping arms around his neck and scratching along his shoulder blades. He laid down on the floor, pressing his chin to the backs of his paws with a look of contentment in those nearly glowing eyes. Mrs. Mathers leaned over, peeking around the side of her desk to look. He was magic. He wasn't a lycanthrope. It made her smile. It made much more sense to her now, all the odd little quirks, his unusual way of moving, even the fact that he got touchy between breakfast and lunch. She knew lycanthropes needed to feed regularly, and they had a higher body temperature than normal people, especially closer to the full moon. His unwillingness to have his temperature taken probably meant that he was always hotter than normal.

"Can he...well, I mean does he understand us?" she knew lycanthropes did when in animal form, but this was something new to her. Michael sat up, moving to nod his head in a smooth motion, eyes fixed on the woman. There was animal in those eyes, but there was also deep intelligence. That shine of human understanding. It made her smile, sitting back in her chair. "You can...err...get up now." she said, as if she wasn't quite sure how to word it. She wondered if he would refuse. She knew that lycanthropes at least couldn't change back for the first eight hours after shifting, because they would end up passing out to sleep, and then couldn't be woken up.

Michael started that liquid looking transition back into human, clothes and things coming back into view, as if the colors had simply changed and blended, then came back. He pushed paws up off the floor, shifting much faster than before, not concerned with letting her see how it worked. He ended, keeping his eyes that amber color, hands going to his hips. He looked proud, and pleased, a smirk on his face at the awed expression from his teacher. Ezzy laughed, a loud pleased sound as she stood, arms going around Michael in a fashion that seemed only fitting for people dating, a clear adoration about her person.

"That's just...well, I think I have had my questions answered. There will be...aahh...Some changes in the way we conduct your class time." she said, steepling her fingers as if in deep thought, eyes a little unfocused as she looked at the boy.

Michael's face fell. He hadn't thought about what it would mean, showing her. He didn't want to be kicked out of school. Suddenly he was fidgeting, running hands down along the hem of his shirt, tugging at it as he licked out over his bottom lip. Ezzy squeezed him tight, grabbing his hands. "Don't do that, Mikey. Just listen to her." she whispered, making him strain to hear her over the rushing thoughts in his head. Neither he nor Ezzy felt romantically inclined toward each other, but the way they acted together...it was almost like two animals. Close touching, no real respect for personal space. They could probably have been completely comfortable cuddling up in a naked pile like kittens, just sleeping.

Mrs. Mathers gave michael an indulging smile, motioning for the two to sit down again. "It's alright, Michael. We aren't going to do anything drastic. I just think there are some things that may help you. For instance, you will get to bring your little bag of snacks to class. Though, I feel I will need to speak to your mother again." Michael had been smiling for a while, but the thought of anyone speaking to his mother about him made him feel sick and squirmy. The woman didn't really like what he was, and tried to keep as distant from it as possible.

"C-c-couldn't...couldn't ya j-just t-talk ta m-my P-p-pops..?" he asked in a high and obviously uncomfortable tone. His grandfather was training him in trying to conquer and learn his different shifts, and he would be better suited for the task. Michael wasn't a typical shifter, as he could gain more and more forms. But each came as a set. A sort of universal balance thing that he hadn't been bothered trying to understand. He had first earned his animal traits when he was eight, his emotions and thoughts suddenly pouring over with alien notions, urges, odd ways of thinking. He couldn't remember it, but he had been pushed into a corner, hissing and spitting at everyone who came by, his mother threatening to simply throw him outside and let him see how well he lived out there.

His grandfather had come through, rushing into the room smelling of something that made michael's head spin, made him dizzy and gave him a headache, waving a stick of old incense at him. The man was excited, frightened, and happy all rolled into one, and it had confused Michael even more. Then there was that low speaking, an odd rolling tone that made him just...calm. He sat, leaning into the corner and his grandfather had scooped him up into his arms, kissed him on the head then stolen away with him for the summer, taken him up to a house in the woods, and helped him control himself. Helped him learn to change. He hadn't had so many animal urges once he could change.

Michael always felt more free when he was in animal form, whether it was panther or wolf. He had felt several times while learning that he would simply turn himself inside out. Which was one thing that could have happened, he was told. But it was like pulling a blanket around yourself, sitting in front of a fire in the middle of the night. Comfortable, content.

Of course, until something happened to make him nervous, frightened, or angry. Then those animal urges stole over him, and he acted like what he was; An animal. Michael wasn't bothered by it though. He wasn't human. He was an animal that sometimes got to walk and talk. It simply was. What did bother him though was when he was called a monster. A freak. He was no such thing, and he hated it. Especially since these so tender endearments came mostly from his mother and father. They weren't very receptive, as far as such things went. They would have probably asked a vet if he could be put down, if he had been a lycanthrope instead.

Mrs. Mathers cleared her throat, shaking her head a bit. "I suppose we can talk to them both, but your grandfather doesn't have custody over you, and it has to be your mother's choice." she picked up on his heavy nervousness on the matter, and gathered that she probably didn't like the fact that her son had such a gift. She had never heard of anything quite like him, but he was a truly special child. She would still have to treat him just like the other students, apart from the allowance of occasional food. But that was a necessity, if it would keep him from acting out.

Michael still looked like he wanted to squirm and protest, but he kept it to himself as it would be lunch time now, and he was so terribly hungry he didn't think he could stand it. "C-c-can...I mean, can w-we go now..?" he shifted from foot to foot, and with a nod from Mrs. Mathers he pulled Ezzy toward the door like a happy dog on a leash, wanting to hurry through the locker rooms and off to the cafeteria.

"You know, you're like...Schizophrenic or something. Bipolar." Ezzy grinned, knowing it would irritate him. Michael pushed her, moving out of the doorway to the girl's locker room to head off to the boy's. He didn't really hate the idea. He supposed since he was always thinking two sets of thoughts; which was always growing more and more toward just one set; that he did seem bipolar, or schizophrenic. He had to admit, it always confused him too.

A quick peek into the boy's locker room showed that everyone had already filtered through there. He went in, only to find a large red 'Fag' written on his locker, and rolled his eyes. He could be as calm and normal as he wanted by himself. "Gods...can't think of a better word?" he murmured to himself, poking at the letters. "Mmm..lipstick. How original." he wiped his hand across his shorts, flinging his locker open and taking his clothes out.

A quick shower and change into his long sleeved red shirt, and black t-shirt over that, his three belts; Red, green, and black, only one of them actually holding his pants on his skinny hips. Baggy dark green pants and his red sneakers with the green laces, and he was ready for lunch. He could already smell the lovely mounds of mystery meat cooking. Oh mystery meat, how I adore you. He snickered to himself, pushing out the door in the back of the locker room, to the outside world. The actual sunlight stung his eyes, going from that dim false light. Ezzy pushed away from the wall beside the girl's door, and followed him, hands in her pockets.

"You know, you're a complete and utter ball of useless mess when you let people get to you. Hell, even Mrs. Mathers bothered you." she rolled her eyes at the sudden blush on his cheeks, his wet hair refusing to push itself forward and hide his face. She reached over and pushed him in the shoulder, and he immediately turned and pushed her back. A small tussle ensued, and left both breathless and laughing.

"I might blush easy, but you're like the sex fiend I never wanted ta have. Seriously. Polar opposites." this comment earned him a swift punch in the side, and he staggered, holding himself. "Ooohh...how you wound me.." he murmured, groaning. There was that feeling again, and he wondered at it. How in hell could pain feel good? It had never occurred to him before, but he supposed it was just as well. If people were going to beat on him, he might as well enjoy it, right?

"You are such a little shit, Mikey." Ezzy laughed, putting hands on hips as she waited for him to stand up and start walking again. The cafeteria was right there, right next to the gym with just a small separation of ground between the buildings. They were always hitting each other, pushing. People called Ezzy a tomboy, but she was just so damned pretty it didn't really matter. Black ankle boots, tight black jeans, grey baggy t-shirt, and usually a jacket, but it was too hot for a full jacket. Not sweat hot, but it did tend to stay pretty hot in Saint Luis. Her hair was pulled back in a high pony tail, and she didn't wear a stitch of makeup. There were a great grouping of spiked and studded wrist bands on both wrists, varying colors.

"Yeah yeah, little shit. And you're a biiiiiig slut." he said, with a teasing tone, grinning. She moved forward, grabbed the front of his shirt and drug him forward. "Yeah, and don't it just make you want to go hetero?" she smiled at the urping noises michael made, shoving a finger down his throat.

Michael didn't think there as a force in this world or the next that would ever bring him to enjoy girls. Girls were just...icky. He started walking on his own, pushing her hand off his shirt to move on his own toward the front doors of the cafeteria. "Nope. And no amount of excellent petting is going to change that." he put hands on his hips, sticking his tongue out at her at the pouty look on her face.

Ezzy was great, but he just didn't like her that way. 


	3. Chapter 3 Hate Me

Michael was in his room, laying on his bed with his hands under his neck. He knew Mrs. Mathers was coming over today, but he really wasn't looking forward to it. Saying his mother wasn't going to be very accommodating would be a serious understatement. He was hoping that she would still listen at least, being as Mrs. Mathers wasn't there to talk about bad conduct, or anything negative. Somehow she seemed to always see something wrong in every thing he did though, so there would most likely be portions of the talk where he would simply want to melt into the floor, disappear. He rolled onto his side, hands still clasped behind his neck. His thumbs rubbed into the top of his neck, pressing at that push of bone. He wanted to just hide under his bed, but his mother had glared at him, told him he was going to be present for the talk. Somehow, he thought that was simply so that she could give him dirty looks at the appropriate moments.

He could hear his mother tidying the already spotless house, glancing around his own room at the so untidy spill of clothing, books, papers. He never cleaned his room unless he couldn't get under the bed anymore. That only had old blankets, a tub of random food items. Mostly beef jerky and sweet crackers. He would spend little bits of money his father gave him, and stash the food in his room. His mother didn't really see the sense in giving him extra food, thought that he was simply playing on his own physical make, trying to weasel her out of sweets and things. She really didn't make an effort to understand him, his gift, or anything really. Her own world was much more organized, made more sense, and she refused to let anything in that made her world expand in an undesirable way. She was completely against anything abnormal, anything that might threaten her mental balance, her set of rules and forced order.

Michael rolled off his bed, foot crunching on something under a peeled apart chip bag. He moved the bag aside with his bare foot, scooping up the parts of a colored pencil, tossing them in the nearly empty waste bin next to his bed. He would have to clean his room when this was all over with. He rather liked drawing, michael did. He had a whole wall full of his drawings, mostly just boys he invented in his head, people he knew would never be real. So many faces, so many smiling cheerful people, dancing, singing, walking, running, sitting, eating, so many activities, each full of so much life they should have moved, winked. He always thought if he tried hard enough, he could probably find a witch to do it for him, make his drawings dance in their white worlds. Like Harry Potter. But then he would simply toss the idea away, because it just sounded so silly to him. He was surrounded by happy smiling boys, men, couples. And he felt so lonely. It was the only reason he wanted them to move.

When he felt sad, michael would pull out his little spiral notebook and doodle. But that was for deeper hurt. Things he never let other people see because they were too personal. It wasn't really what was in the book, because people were still merely being together, and not a single picture had less than two people. Those too time, and the concentration usually made him feel better. The attention to detail, the emotion. Some of them had deeper lines than the rest, as if he had pushed too hard, started to tear through the paper with his pen or pencil. Most pictures were simply sketched, drawn in as if he needed to simply take a moment to collect himself. Others were inked, these had small dots as if he had cried onto the ink, but he hadn't bothered wiping them away, he let them dry into the paper. It would have smeared worse anyways. Things like these typically looked quite dramatic, very symbolic and pained. These looked like he had cut his hurt into the paper, as if he would have bled himself, but he had poured that pain into the drawings. Not even Ezzy knew about the notebook.

Sometimes he would simply say he had to go off for a while, or mention something about doodling to clear his head, a smooth and bored tone to hide just how hurt he was. Michael could be quite good at hiding his pain when he wanted to. A lot of times he mused that he would tell Ezzy, let her see. Have her tell him he was a big emo fairy, drag him off telling him he had to simply suck it up, and then ask him if he wanted to go to the store and get some licorice. She wasn't being mean or unsympathetic, it was just how she tended to work him back into a good mood. He never really let go of his pain though. It sounds so very depressing and silly, but michael didn't take his actual feelings lightly, and he tended to keep them as long as they wanted to be there, instead of trying to get over them. He didn't really change emotions. He added to them.

Michael was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on his door, a stern and clipped voice coming through it. His mother knew she didn't have to raise her voice for him to hear, but she didn't sound happy about it. "Your teacher is here, Michael. Please come to the living room." footsteps trailing away from his door, back down the hall. With a sigh he jumped clear over his bed, not bothering to walk around it as he opened his door, clicking the light off on his way out. He shoved his hands into his back pockets, clicking fingernails over the binding of his notebook. He didn't know why he suddenly had this thick feeling of dread, but he could smell it in the hallway as if his mother had lit a candle and blown it out. That cool anger she had, filling the air. She wasn't magic, but he could smell it just the same, had heard it in her tone. She was going to be cruel to him, and he wasn't even sure why. Hadn't Mrs. Mathers explained what she wanted to talk to her about?

But of course, he knew she had the moment he walked into the living room, his mother giving that haughty sniff as he went to sit down, sitting with his hands between his knees, shoulders hunched. Mrs. Mathers was sitting on the edge of the couch. Obviously the tension was not wasted on her, and she looked a little confused, eyes slowly sliding between the two of them before she settled herself back with the small cup of tea she had been given, sipping a small amount before clearing her throat. "Well, shall we begin, or will we be waiting for your grandfather, michael?" Michael had sat up, going to nod. He wanted his grandfather here, he was always on michael's side, and never let his mother bully him in his presence. But his mother spoke up before him, cutting off that happy thought. "We do not need my husband's father here, as I am the boy's mother, and whatever your concern is, I am certain that I can deal with it." She gave the woman a look from those cold dark eyes, and it made her want to squirm, as if she had done something wrong.

"I meant no disrespect, I had merely thought he would be present." the moment she said it though, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say, as Michael's mother looked at him, a look of intense cold irritation on her face. "Did you..?" the two words seemed full of menace and hate, even though she hadn't even narrowed her eyes. She looked calm, collected. As if they were talking about something she simply wasn't interested in, like sports. She moved, crossing her legs at the ankles as she picked up her own cup of tea, holding it as if she were in possession of something else for her to sink her hatred into. She sipped, and set the cup into the palm of her other hand, as if she would have liked to have a saucer to clink the cup back down onto. Michael busied himself making his own tea, not really wanting to get involved. He would rather have his mother ignore him any day, rather than have her full attention. He added so much sugar it raised the dark tea to nearly the brim, having to sip to get enough room for mixing, and cream. Michael really did enjoy making his tea into a thick sugary milky substance. His mother gave him the look she always did, but that look he was more used to. "That isn't tea anymore, Michael. It isn't even a drink." but he ignored her, moving back as he stirred it, sitting on one of the dainty arm chairs scattered around the room.

The living room was a pretty decent looking room, clean, neat, but cozy. You would have thought that a happier family lived here, from looking around. Clean and comfortable furniture, a fire place with dried flowers arranged on top, in light and pale colors, the walls a light light burnt yellow, paintings of fields and flowers scattered around. The furniture looked old, and each had an arrangement of flowers on it. They would change, but usually they leaned toward lillies and daffodils. Michael wasn't sure how his mother could possibly be so cruel, and still have this warm and cozy feel about her. He had always thought it was odd that she hated him so deeply, but she could still have her house decorated as if she were the loving grandmother every child wanted, craved. A small rocking chair sat in one corner with an old teddy bear in it, his tattered pinstripe vest buttoned, his head leaning to the side. Michael always found himself tilting his own head, as if he were a cat studying something. It just seemed so natural.

A cough from the chair his mother sat in told him he was doing it again, and he dropped his eyes, sitting up straighter as he sipped at his so sugary tea. He suddenly felt like he should apologize, but he was never sure what something like that would make his mother do. Sometimes she smiled in this hateful way, or she simply ignored him. But most times, she had a look of pure irritation on her face, as if he simply didn't understand that 'i'm sorry' just wasn't good enough for all her little irritations. So he simply sat up, sipped his tea, and nodded. Mrs. Mathers was very slowly losing her composure, setting her tea down on the table. It wasn't very good anyways.

"I'm sorry for having to bother you, Mrs. Wong, but I simply wanted to speak to you about your son, and perhaps how we could improve his difficulties at school." this statement netted Michael another angry glance from his mother, who set her own tea down, her lips one thin line as she narrowed her almond eyes, settling as if she would cross her legs, if they weren't already. She folded her hands in her lap, looking very much like a proper lady in her white hose, simple flats, rose colored skirt and pale pink sweater. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and if it weren't for the harsh and cold lines, she would have looked quite agreeable, comforting, open. Very much a beautiful woman. But her eyes stung like ice through their dark depths. She was obviously getting the wrong idea, and the graying red head sighed, running a hand up and through her loose hair.

"I am perfectly aware of your son's special situation, and I simply think we could make some adjustments, perhaps to make him more comfortable, and help him be more focused. But I do need your input, as he is your son." her tone was flat, no more of that soft sincerity from before. Michael hunched his shoulders. He could smell the anger coming from both women, but his mother stank of intense disgust, and it made his stomach clench. He just wanted to hide, run away and dash under his bed. His mother shifted, both feet on the floor as she sat up straighter, as if that were ever possible. She looked as though she had been intensely insulted, and Mrs. Mathers was unsure what she had said.

"My son's 'special situation' ? Oohh...I see. You are trying to be gentle about his being a monster. Well, by all means, do please make things easier for him. I don't think he could possibly be ahead of the children in his gym class at all. Let's give him a leg up on the poor human girls." she sneered, and it made her beautiful face something terrible and ugly, as if someone had come along and drawn something over her real face, those pale cheeks, her beautiful almond eyes. Michael bit down on his tongue, moving further back into his chair as if he would hide in the fabric, sink into it. What he wouldn't give for invisibility powers right that moment. He wanted to disappear, and perhaps never come back.

Mrs. Mather's eyes went wide. How could this woman be so terrible to her own son? What had he ever done to her, to make her so...cruel? She looked at michael, and the sight of him trying to hide himself, his hair spilling over in front of his face as he clasped his tea cup, as if the bit of porcelain could save him from the cold cruel words. She turned back, eyes wide, meeting a cold smile from the woman sat across from her. She narrowed her own eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "You would call your own son a monster? And I am not saying he needs help, I am suggesting we need to talk about his physical well being. He's a child, so they serve small meals. But he can change into animals, so I'm assuming he needs more than that. Would it be alright to-" she was cut off by a sudden furious look from his mother as she stood, hands going to her hips, that cold look thicker if it were at all possible.

"He will learn to control himself, or he will be kicked out of school. I will not pamper him as if he were some stumbling child, trying to learn how to walk. He is nothing more than an animal, unless he can prove differently." Michael's hands came up to cover his ears. It was coming, he knew it was. Yelling. He felt the tension in the air as if it were some thick and tangible thing, and he didn't want to hear the yelling. It would go into him like knives in his ears, until he thought he should be bleeding. His power spread through the room, but it was hot, not that neutral feeling from before when he was happy. He was afraid, and hurt, and he didn't want to have this discussion. The hot water feeling spread through the room, and his mother's eyes widened, and she took a step, as if she would strike him. She felt that pushing hot energy. Faintly, but she felt it.

Mrs. Mather's stood, a look of fierce determination on her face. She was just a teacher, but she wasn't at school now. She wasn't going to sit and watch as the woman hit Michael, but he just sat there, slowly opening his eyes as he looked up, wide eyes staring at his mother, as if she had grown a second ugly head that had suddenly started spewing insults at him. She didn't make a move to hit him though, pulling herself back to put hands on her hips, until he moved his hands away from his ears. "Control yourself, Michael. Or are you still simply an animal?" she smiled that cruel smile, and tears stung his eyes. Why was she always so mean to him? What had he ever done to her? What was it in him that made her want to tear him down with every word, every movement and look in her eyes? He just didn't understand it.

"I...s-s-sorry.." he murmured, and she suddenly stopped smiling, bitting the inside of her cheek as if she wanted nothing better than to strike him, and he stood suddenly, tears spilling down his face as he ran out of the room, tea sloshing over his hands from the cup he still clutched, cold and thick. His mother watched him leave, and with every step he took she felt better, that hot power following him out. "Disgusting.." it had felt like ants, angry bitting ands crawling up and over her skin, all over her as if she weren't wearing a stitch of clothing. Mrs. Mathers turned to shout at her, as a figure moved into the room, his slightly stooped posture making him look shorter than he should have been. He had short cut black hair, and eyes just as dark as Michael's mother's. He wore simple enough clothing, black slacks and a blue button up shirt. He looked as if he would age into nothingness, and like he was already working on it but he wasn't an ugly aged. No, he looked dignified.

"We hate most in others what we hate in ourselves, don't we, Kiko..?" he asked in a voice that surprised Mrs. Mathers, smooth and calm, not a hint of the croaking old voice she thought he would have. He moved forward using a cane, as if he couldn't quite keep himself from wobbling as he stepped. Michael's mother, Kiko, stood clenching her fists, her jaw set as if she wanted nothing better than to reach out and slap at the man. she turned on her heel, nose in the air as she stalked out of the room, in the door opposite the one michael had gone down. There was a sound of shoes stomping on stairs, and a slam of a door. The man shook his head, sighing heavily, and Mrs. Mather's couldn't feel more like she had been rescued from the terrible woman. She turned, a look of pure irritation and righteous anger on her face. "How can she be so terrible to him?" she wasn't really expecting an answer, but the man took her hand and patted it, then went to pour himself some of the lukewarm tea still in the pot, moving to take up michael's chair.

"She is sensitive. And I do mean that she is part psychic. She feels energies, magics around her. And she feels that makes her a monster. A proper lady is normal, she doesn't feel love or anger on the air as if she could touch it. That is her view." he shrugged, spooning nearly as much sugar into his cup as michael had, then sat back in the chair as if he were a flower unfolding, but somehow it looked more uncomfortable, quite stiff and as if he should be groaning in pain. "I am terribly sorry for being late. Michael had begged me to be here, but I was thoroughly engrossed in a nap." he gave a sheepish smile, and Mrs. mathers couldn't help but smile. She picked up her tea again, sipping at it before making a face, and setting it back down. It didn't taste very much better cold than it had hot.

"It isn't very good, is it?" the man chuckled low, as if he couldn't get up the engery to laugh any louder or faster. He had a light hearted smile on his face as he hefted his cup, as if pointing to it with the motion. "Hence the sugar." it made the woman laugh, shaking her head a little. "I hadn't wanted to be rude." but the statement made her laugh louder, the irony of the situation making her want to throw arms around herself and make a full on party of the motion. The way michael's mother had acted had made her feel as though she should be wringing her neck, and she still didn't comment on the terrible tea.

Michael lay under his bed, curled up in a little ball as if he would simply disappear into himself, when he heard a light scratching at his window. It wasn't the scratching, but the way it sounded that caught his attention. It sounded like a cat were scratching at his window, those eager scraping pulls of sound. It wasn't exactly right, not in pitch, but it definitely wasn't a branch at his window. He squirmed out from under his bed, moving on his belly until his head was clear of the edge, moving in a wave from head to toe as more of him had room, moving to stand. He hadn't turned the light on, so it was dim as he padded across the piles of stuff on his floor. He moved, pushing the curtains aside as he peered out into the cheerful face of Ezzy, who immediately pointed at the window sill, motioning for him to pull it open. He did, a small smile on his face.

She leaned in, resting her elbows on the window sill, as if she were leaning on a counter, looking up at him. "Hey mikey. Why're you in the dark? It isn't time for you to be sleeping yet, is it?" she smiled as if she didn't think it would be rude for her to have been there if she were. She was just too easy going, so unconcerned. It was rude, but somehow it didn't actually make people angry. It wasn't as if she didn't care about people, or their feelings, she just didn't sweat it if she did make them upset. It was their problem if they couldn't deal with how she was, not her's. She grinned at him, then her face fell as she actually looked at him. There was a faint glitter around his cheeks, and even in the slowly falling twilight. She reached out, and he actually flinched. Michael never flinched away from her like that, not as if he thought she were going to hurt him.

"Mikey...mikey what happened..?" her voice was calm, soothing, and she brushed away those tears, then took her hand back to show she hadn't any other plans for him except that. He shivered a little, wrapping arms around himself as he settled again, but it looked like it was hard for him. He just didn't understand why his mother made him feel this way. Why she was so cruel. "Mim...she...well, she was bein really mean. Mrs. Mathers is here talkin ta her, an ya know what she wanted ta talk about." he shook his head, pulling that sulky exterior around himself. It was better to pout than it was to cry, at least when other people could see.

Michael shook his head, moving toward the window as if he expected Ezzy to simply move without his asking, then seemed to remember he hadn't had any shoes on. He turned, moving to the head of his bed then reached around underneath, pulling his shoes out along with a pair of green and black striped socks. He tugged them on without a word, and as if they had done it a million times already, Ezzy moved away from the window and he sat on the edge, turning to slide out and then pulled the window closed. Everyone knew by now that he would slip out at any time of the night, and come back whenever. It wasn't very good parenting, but he did it anyways. He had to get away, had to go somewhere until he felt that pool of sick emotion seep back down into him like a drying well. He thrust hands into his back pockets, fingers playing with the notebook and pen. He wanted to draw, but it wasn't THAT bad. Not bad enough for him to need to dig into the pages.

Ezzy threw an arm around Michael's shoulders, steering him toward the front of the house, and the street. They would have to walk a bit before they got anywhere, but neither of them minded. They were used to walking a while recently, and it was actually good for them. Like a dusk exercise routine. Michael sighed. He had money in the pocket nearest his right ankle, but it wasn't much. He hoped Ezzy had brought some, because he was hungry, and he would need to eat a bit. "Hey, Ezzy, do you-" he was cut off by a quick squeeze from Ezzy before she let him go, digging in her front pockets. She wore a leather biker's jacket, but it was so covered in silver studs that she shone like a bit of the night sky down on the ground. A black halter top under that, and a pair of black skin tight jeans along with black cowboy boots, and she was a bit black dot. Michael wasn't so much better off, with his black t-shirt and dark green cargo pants. But he had at least some color, a long sleeved red shirt that had arms too long for him sat underneath the black t-shirt, the sleeves hanging over his hands. Along with his three belts, the red one holding his pants up while the other two just sat around his skinny hips, his red shoes with their green laces, and he was all dressed. He looked like he should have had wild hair, and stark eyes. Ezzy always said he should just go goth, and be done with it, but he just wrinkled his nose at her.

"Got about...twenty five. You want to go off to Koken's Pizza at the corner? They'll still be open for about an hour, and we can stuff you full of pizza and ice cream." she smiled, pushing the money into his hand. He was always amazed at how much money she had, usually saving it away until she wanted to buy something for herself, or him. Though the stuff she gave him always pissed his mother off, and he couldn't decide if she had done it just for that, or because he liked it. Usually cat collars with little phrases on the tags, or other stuff. The collars made his mother angry enough, but the one thing that had made her the angriest was when she had given him a dog collar and lead. Both black leather, but the collar had a black heart shaped tag that simply said "Pussy" on it. That alone had made michael laugh for about an hour, and then he wore it the rest of the day, arguing with teachers that it wasn't anything wrong, and in the case of his english teacher Ezzy had dramatically put a hand to her chest and insisted that the woman had a very dirty mind, for not taking it for what it was. Michael was a cuddly pussy cat, and she shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. The woman had simply scowled and gone back to her papers, mumbling about cheeky children.

Michael nodded his head, grinning to himself as he looked at the money. With what he had in his pocket it came out to a nice forty dollars. That kind of money would net them enough food to feed a family of nine, if he wrangled it right. Michael didn't like to eat, but it did help him stay in his more human frame of mind, and if he ate right, he could linger on the ice cream afterwards.

When in doubt, drown your pain in sugary brain killing sweetness. 


	4. Chapter 4 Want Me

"I swear ta the Gods Ezzy, some day I'm gonna look back on all this, laugh, an go ta wash the blood off my hands." Michael tugged at the bottom of his black top, trying to make it stretch back down and reach his waist. Ezzy had decided that his fourteenth birthday would be a good night to bring Michael along to one of her many club outings, and she had been unable to resist the urge to...dress him up a bit. They both had their hair up in high ponytails at the backs of their heads, a single strand of loose hair hanging down michael's right cheek, and Ezzy's left. She wore the negative image version of the outfit she had brought for michael; White top, black skirt, white knee length boots "My thighs really don't like being contained." and a pair of white thong underwear, which she delighted in showing the poor gay Asian boy. 

Michel wore a black skin tight top in a material that felt like thin swimsuit stuff, and looked like a square of fabric over his chest, which had started to fill out a bit more over the year. It didn't look as good on him as it did on Ezzy, and he had told her as much, poking a finger into the fat of one of her breasts, to which she replied that he just hadn't finished growing his man-boobs, patting him on the head. The back was a web of white straps, little black buckles that had felt cold on his skin, and he was sure that when he took the shirt off there would be imprints in his skin. They were in no way thin little buckles.

He was starting to look more like a human being than a stick figure, but he still had those feminine curves. She had brought a short white leather skirt, which he had adamantly refused to wear, but she kicked him in the stomach, pushed him down, and told him he was going to wear it. Ezzy didn't play games when she wanted her way. Michael gave in, whimpering and holding hands over his stomach. He did feel that surge of pleasure from it, but more than anything it was as if she were the dominant female of his pack, and he was being forced into obedience. Sex was not an issue.

Michael had thought that they would need to peel the skirt onto him, and they pretty much did. A rather rediculous looking black men's thong went underneath, with a questioning look from michael. "I don't wanna know where ya got these, an I don't wanna know how in the hell ya know my size." she had grinned wide and wicked, and a blush spread across his cheeks. He hadn't minded stripping down and letting her dress him until that point, but she had insisted that he would need her help getting into the skirt. Which he had, but he sulked the entire time, a look of fierce defiance on his face, even as he yeilded to her attentions.

With only his black belt around his waist, still hanging loose because the skirt actually fit, he felt naked. As if he simply didn't have enough weight on him. There was also that nagging feeling that the skirt was too short. He felt every time he walked that he must certainly be flashing the room, but Ezzy reassured him that it was staying just where it was supposed to, and the heavy material wouldn't float up in a draft.

She brought out a pair of thigh high black leather boots, and his eyes went wide, as if it were the most amazing thing he had ever seen. "Those...are those for me?" He asked in a soft whispering voice of disbelief. Ezzy was always bringing him little things like nail polish, little cat collars, or big thick dog collars with single words on the tags. But she had never brought him so many new things at once. It struck him suddenly that it was his birthday, and maybe she was doing her version of giving him presents. A grin spread over his lips, and he nearly danced.

"Yup, all yours Mikey." she tossed the boots onto the edge of the bed. They weren't very long, seeing as michael was still only about four and a half feet, and he wondered if this was a custom order. It would have cost eighty some dollars alone for normal boots like these, but made for his fit...

Michael went over to the spanish girl, wrapping his arms around her as he did, a happy hop in his step before he turned, fairly prancing to the bed to pull up one of the black leather things. He understood why he needed the short skirt. The boots themselves were flat heeled, though with a slight platform on them. Only about three inches. Yeah, maybe a strain on the word 'slight.' They laced up the back, and the short skirt actually made sense now. It would have looked silly having black boots, showing white pants through. At least with how high they were, he could pretend that they were pants.

Michael wasted no time in wriggling into the boots, and they ended up actually going so far as to slip under the edge of the skirt, as if he were wearing leggings. He did a little dance about, trying to fix the laces in the back, and Ezzy actually made him stop, stand with his hands against a wall. She had gotten halfway up one leg when Michael's door burst open, without even a knock on it. "Michael, I washed your clothes, but the red shirt you left in the washing bled all over everything, so-" his mother looked up from a pile of unfolded laundry, everything tinged a slight redish pinkish color over the base colors of black and green. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she walked in, looking stiff and haughty as she placed his clothes on the bed.

"Uhh...Hi Mrs. Wong." Ezzy grinned, hands still working on the back of Michael's boot, acting as if she were doing something normal. "Shouldn't you knock when you come into a closed room? We could have been naked." Michael made a sudden gagging noise, crossing his eyes at his mother, her face fallen into a look of utter disdain. "Ooh, do tell me how my gay son would have ended up naked in the same room as you, Elizabeth." she put hands on her hips. She never did like the fact that her son was gay, and even less that he hung out with such a rude girl.

"He's got a Duckie shaped birthmark just between his-" Ezzy began with a smirk, but his mother's eyes went wide, and she waved hands in the air. "Enough! I do not need to hear these things from YOU of all people." she cast a hateful glance at Michael, turning on her heel to leave, slamming the door behind her. She did NOT want to know how on earth the girl knew about _That_ of all things.

Michael let his forehead hit the wall, a loud thunk noise as Ezzy giggled, moving to the bottom of the other boot's lacings. "Ezzy...Gods...why did'ja have ta bring that up..?" Michael had been hanging from his feet, pants tied around his ankles, suspended in midair from the basketball hoop. The three demons of his first year in high school had strung him up and pelted him with basketballs. The 'Duckie' birthmark in question was just between that length of flesh, and his delicate lower parts, and was faint enough that most people didn't notice it at first unless they were really looking.

Ezzy had come in, just as he thought he was going to pass out from the blood rushing to his head, and managed to get him down. In her odd way, she had teased him, commenting on the mark, and calling him just too cute for words, telling him he needed a duckie tattoo on his butt. It hadn't helped, but having her rescue him instead of one of the teachers was a very big relief. The teachers would have had him talking to a councilor, or have his mother in...yet more unwanted drama and crap.

Michael was suddenly brought back from his musings at a hard pinch on his left ass cheek, a delighted string of giggles from his sudden yelp. "FUCK Ezzy!! The hell'd ya go an do that for??" he spun, the heavy boots feeling odd and clumsy on his feet. He was glad she hadn't picked out high heels. Those would have killed him in an instant. Ezzy stood up, putting hands on her hips as Michael rubbed at his now sore and throbbing butt. He felt the beginnings of a bruise, and scowled at her. "What? You have a nice ass, and I just spent five minutes staring up your skirt." she gave him that mischievious smile, wriggling her eyebrows. Michael gave her a dirty look, thick red blush spreading across his face. He liked Ezzy, but sometimes she pushed his comfort limits. He let her hold him and touch him, things he didn't usually let girls do. But she was different. She may smirk and make all the dirty comments she wanted, but she never tried anything overt. Never mentioned trying to get him to like girls, or had any true lust in her eyes. It was like she were simply pushing him, or tickling him. Friendly molestation. Yeah.

With a low growl michael crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. "A pinch to grow an inch. And you need the help, mikey." she grinned, making her fingers come together in another pinching motion, a smile on her lips. Michael shook his head. "You always use nails, I don't wanna be all marked up and still have ta go to bed tonight." he scowled, and she dropped her hands, that teasing smile still on her face. She knew just what it did to him, and she did so love to tease, but she knew when to stop.

"So, you want to put on some makeup, and go completely dolled up, or you want to just go now?" she had a tone of hope in her voice, as if she would love nothing better than to keep dressing him up instead of actually going out. For now. She was always trying to get michael to go to school in girl's clothes, saying he just looked so fantastic in them. Much better than the 'baggy shit' he always wore. He was only starting to fill out, but he had that look to him as if once he finished growing, he would be a very scrumptious sight to see.

"No, we're leaving. I don't wanna give ya an excuse ta bite my ears or somethin. Ya always get too close ta my face for eye makeup, an that only spells trouble." he made a face at her sudden look of shocked innocence. "Moi? Surely you jest." she used a hurt tone, but it was ruined when the wriggled her eyebrows at him. With a roll of his eyes and sigh, he pushed away from the wall, putting hands on his upper thighs as if he needed to hold the skirt out of the way to watch his feet. The boots were heavy, but once he got a sway down, a motion of his ankles, it felt just like walking in normal shoes. It just took a moment of getting used to. He wondered how quickly he would fall down stairs, and whether he would die, but they were just too cool to take off in the face of impending doom.

The club was actually much better than Michael had feared it would be. And teasing complete strangers? Fuckin funny. He and Ezzy had a station by the bar, and michael had insisted he couldn't have anything to drink, and the bar man agreed. Ezzy had rolled her eyes. "Mikey, seriously. My uncle's son is the guy at the door, remember? We can get away with just about anything. Have some fun." but he had refused, instead accepting some fruity concoction without any alcohol in it. Just lime for that tang, and lemon for that sour flavor. Most of all it tasted like cherries, strawberries, and cream. It was one of the best things he had ever had, and he found himself playing with the little stick of a straw. One of those weird bendy twisty straws that always managed to somehow make your drink warm by the time it actually got to your mouth.

He watched people behind them, leaning forward with his feet flat on the floor, but crossed just under his knees, wriggling his behind to the music. People walked past, stared, and then caught his look in the mirror. Michael didn't look so much like a girl in the face without makeup, and it was just that initial look that gave people the idea that he was a girl. High cheek bones, still with that baby softness to his face, wide expressive eyes, and thin brows. It didn't help he had that slightly pouty bottom lip, thin top lip. 'The Perfect Woman's Mouth' his mother had told him once. Though she somehow made it more into an insult than a compliment. The woman had a way with tones and words. She could probably say the sweetest things, and make them sound like soul rending put downs.

"come on mikey, I've had atleast three shots of tequila now, and I want to dance." she grinned, grabbing at his hand as he hastily made to put his drink down on the bar top, giving it a last longing look as he was dragged away. Ezzy pulled him to the dance floor, the crowd growing silent and restless as the DJ fumbled with his new selection, and even after he started it, there was a moment of silence, but he raised hands, motioning for people to just wait, a grin on his face.

Music started in, and Ezzy leaned into michael, grinning. She knew this song. "Now, just like I taught you. Forget them, hell, forget me. I'm just here to give you more moves. What's the fun of dancin alone?" She smirked, and there was a laughter in her eyes as Michael closed his eyes, grinning. Ooohh he was going to kill her when he found out that she had slipped alcohol into his drink while he was putting down a rather interested man in a green button up shirt.

_"Recollect me darlin, raise me to your lips Two under nourished egoes, four rotatin hips"_

Michael wasn't so much listening to the words, not that they didn't move the sudden writhing wriggle he did with his hips, hands going to Ezzy's shoulders as he stepped forward, pressing against her for a moment before his hips sliding left and right, mouth going so near Ezzy's she was tempted to kiss him, just to watch him squeal. but dancing michael was a much greater delight than blushing michael. He just had a way of moving just this side of human, and it was always so sexy.

He pressed away from her again, and she swayed, dipping down for a moment as she raised one knee along his hip, and his hand went to it reflexively, sliding along her naked thigh. It wasn't sexual to him, it was just touching. Acting. Dancing.

_"Hold onto me tightly, I'm a sliding scale Can't endure then you can't inhale"_

Ezzy acted her part, pressing hands up and over his shoulders, making a face as if she were hissing in through her teeth, a grin on her face. There were other people dancing, and the darkness gave them a hint of privacy, but there were faces here and there, watching the nearly identical figures, the one shorter, the other taller, writhing together.

She moved, michael pushing her back with her body as her raised leg came back down, stamping onto the ground behind her as he pushed her back, a leg between her own, moving as if he caressed her there, and he could do it without having to bend her backwards. All those who love short people, raise your hands? It was sexy as hell, but michael kept his eyes closed, as if he were in his room, dancing alone.

_"Clearly.Out of body experience interferes And dreams of flying I fit nearly..."_

He moved, letting her push him down, a hand on his head and a look on her face as if he were going to push in between her legs, hands trailing down her body, fingers dancing as he moved back up, her head going back. They swayed together, hips pressed against eachother, but it was as if two girls were there. Michael was having fun, but that's all it was to them. Faintly he knew that's all it was to either of them. Ezzy just didn't see him that way.

_"Surrounds me though I get lonely Slowly..."_

Michael pressed her back with his hips, and she followed, as if he were leading her by the hand. They moved in a tight circle, one of his hands moving down to her hip, grabbing onto her waist as the other went to the back of her neck, her arms mirroring his as they swayed like a string in the wind, and she forced him slower, made the movement lingering, painfully slow at the last word, drawing the curl and push of their hips into a sugestive push and slide through the brief bit of filler music.

_"Moving up slowly _

_Inertia keeps _

_She's moving up slowly _

_Slowly._

_Moving up slowly _

_Inertia creeps _

_Moving up slowly _

_She comes _

_Moving up slowly _

_She comes _

_Moving up slowly _

_Inertia creeps _

_Moving up slowly _

_She comes _

_Moving up slowly _

_Moving up slowly"_

They pressed and wriggled together, pushing in a rocking tide. She would push him back, he would push her, their hips and hands locked to eachother as if they were on writhing being, one mind. A wide grin spread over michael's lips, his eyes slipping open. He had a look on his face that made him look seventeen instead of fourteen.

_"In my home no chrome as clear as See me now with my nearest dearest.."_

Michael was listening to the music now, and he pressed the hand at Ezzy's neck down over her shoulder, traipsing fingers over the skin, a heavy touch, but the way he held his fingers spoke of grace and gentle caresses. It was all for show, and he didn't mind at all. Michael liked to move to the music, it always felt right, somehow free. It didn't matter what he was, didn't matter where he was. Ezzy would always keep him safe, and he didn't have to worry about anything else.

_"Been there when I'm over careering Room shifting is endearing.."_

He moved a hand up to her cheek, tilting her head away from him as he moved, mouth just above the skin of her shoulder, trailing breath over her shoulder, up her neck, lightly over her jaw, then pushing her gently away from him, swaying steps as he turned, twisted, as if he were water pouring gently from a faucet, arms going above his head, resting over his hair.

He ended up bumping into a boy who turned him around, long brown hair ever so slightly curly, hanging down at his shoulders. His chocolate brown eyes were thick as pools, and Michael was only too willing to throw himself in and drown. His head was thick with an odd dizziness, and he felt like he was falling, arms going around the boy's shoulders, pressing up against him as the music continued, but he couldn't hear it anymore. All he could see in his vision was chocolate brown.

"Awww..Yurick, lookit. You've caught him. And you're early. No fairl." Ezzy pouted, breathing a little heavy from their dancing, crossing arms under her ample chest. Yurick moved, turning the boy in his arms, cutting off that vampire energy that he hadn't tried to control. Vampires could draw you in with their eyes, take your mind and roll you lilke nobody's business. Make you do things you never would have done, and like it, even make you forget afterwards.

Michael blinked, wondering how he had gone from facing one direction, to facing another. "Uhh..." he blushed as arms wrapped around his shoulders, and looked up, staring into the most handsome guy he had ever seen. He wanted to plunge hands into the boy's hair and just feel it, one hand actually coming up to do just that. "So soft.." he murmured to himself, grinning with a heavy happiness in his head. He was glad that he wasn't wearing much, because he felt suddenly hotter than he should have been.

"Hey there, pretty thing." the boy had a thick accent that michael couldn't quite place, and he looked about fifteen or sixteen to him. He didn't care though. He liked this guy, and he wanted to climb him like a kitten, an actual purr in his throat. "Hi." Michael said in a far away dreamy voice. Or maybe it was just far away to him. He giggled, and it made him feel breathless and dizzy.

His legs started to wobble, and he slid down, the arms around his shoulders tightening, then moving faster than he could even comprehend down to scoop him up, carrying him with one arm under his back, the other under his legs. With a gleeful giggle Michael threw arms around the boy's chest and back, kicking his feet, making himself quite the difficult bundle to hold. He didn't usually throw himself all over people, but this boy smelled nice, and he had such pretty eyes..

Ezzy leaned into the two, grinning from ear to ear. "Happy Birthday, mikey." She winked, and it only made the asian boy giggle and squirm, nearly slipping from the so sweet smelling boy's arms. There was an odd scent in there, something still, and kind of like snakes, but michael liked snakes. They had fangs.


	5. Chapter 5  Kiss Me

"Hey now, if you don't settle down I'll drop you." The brown haired boy smiled a closed lipped smile, turning from the dance floor to walk back toward the bar. He had been watching a while, so he knew where they had been. Surprisingly, the drink Michael had been sipping on so happily was still there, but it had a couple napkins under it. Aparently, they had left it long enough it had started making a little pool of water underneath.

Gleefully Michael threw himself to the floor, and sway-stepped his way over to the bar, tossing himself up ontop of one of the padded stools, feet hanging in the air even with his boots on. He scooped up the glass of lovely pink drink stuff, and took a long sip, an odd dreamy look in his eyes as he set it back down, settling with his chin on the counter, arms going around the cup as if he were cuddling with it. "This stuff is so yummy Ezzy, I'mma have ta get another one." he grinned, and little giggles came from him, lazy things.

With a curious look to Ezzy, Yurick reached over, carefully prying the cup away from the Asian boy, holding it out for the barman to take, who did so without question, casting eyes over the three. He finally settled on Ezzy, who gave him wide innocent eyes, shaking her head a little. He narrowed his own, turned and walked away with the nearly empty glass. Yurick ran a hand idly through Michael's hair, who turned his head to the side, a heavy purr in his throat, eyes sliding closed as if he were in the most perfect place in the world for a nap.

"Elizabeth...he smells like alcohol. You told me he was turning fourteen today. How much did you give him?" his eyes held a hard acusation, and Ezzy grinned only wider at it, kicking her feet out to cross her legs in a long and flashy movement, spinning in her seat so she could lean back against the bar, her small white square of a top straining over her breasts. When you can't beat them, distract them. "Ooh, Only about three dollars worth. Not that much." But Yurick knew enough to know how much that was, and he gave her shocked eyes.

"Look how small he is! You couldn't possibly have thought that would come out well." he wanted to reach over and strangle her. How could she have done something so stupid? He looked down at the asian boy, and amber eyes looked up at him. It was a little shocking. He didn't smell like a lycanthrope. But then, there was so much alcohol smell coming off of him he probably wouldn't have been able to tell if he had rolled in a pile of garbage. He covered the shocked look well, moving to pull Michael in against him. The boy seemed to be doing pretty well off for now, but it would probably get worse.

"What's so bad about it? So he'll have a hangover. So what. Did you see how much fun he was having before you interupted?" she smirked, wriggling her eyebrows at him. Michael moved, snuggling against the brown haired boy. He had completely missed the fact that the boy was a vampire, and the fact that Ezzy had slipped alcohol into his specifically requested non-alcoholic drink. He was far too pleased, too full of that bubbly happy warmth to really care.

"When you planned this outing, did you plan on his little...condition?" he turned Michael's head gently, showing Ezzy those yellow-amber eyes, and the bit down on her lip, shaking her head a little. "No...I figured he has a fast enough metabolism, it ought to just wash right though him...right?" she didn't look so certain, and she moved into Michael's previously occupied stool, getting closer so she didn't have to speak too loudly. She knew he didn't like having just anyone know, even if he wasn't actually infected with lycanthropy. People always took it wrong.

"Well, next time, might I suggest that even though you want things to be 'fun' you leave the alcohol out? You don't even know how he'll react." he sounded as if he were telling her something that just anyone should have known. She wanted to squirm under that gaze, staring at his chin instead of those light brown eyes. It wasn't that she was ashamed, she knew you weren't supposed to look vampires in the eyes. That's how they caught you, sometimes even when they didn't mean to. It made Yurick feel a little bit like a bully, but he wanted to quite thuroughly get it through her head. She nodded, slipping off the stool. "This isn't fun anymore. Let's go to the circus." She turned, that wide wicked grin on her face again.

The Circus Of The Damned. One big fright and thrill atraction under a single roof. It was what the name implied, and a full circus, three rings and all, but it was housed inside a building. A stationary thing. There were zombie raisings, freaks, acrobats, thrills, chills, scares. There were more screams than from a normal circus, and the attractions tended to run on the darker side of things. They had a fifty foot snake once, but it had gone crazy, eaten it's handler, and tried to tear into the crowd. It had taken a whole group of lycanthropes, vampires, and the infamous Anita Blake to take the damned thing down. So saying the circus was anything like a normal circus would have been like saying a lion was as big as an ant. It just wasn't true. The Circus of The Damned was not a normal place, and it usually ran to the more bizaar. People came to be frightened, and they got it.

"The Circus!? We get ta go to the Circus??" Michael bounced in Yurick's lap, all bubbly excitement, wide eyes on his flushed cheeks. He'd wanted to go since he was little, but everyone had always said it was too scary, too big and loud for someone so small and timid. His mother had made comments about him being so frightened it would make him into something even less human than he already was. Possibly scare him into a coma. Michael had always begged his father, who never really had any opinion of anything. His mother was very much the leader of the house. His father simply went to work, ran their small convenience store, solf off his cheezy imports, and came home. He would watch Tv, sitting so straight in his chair, come to dinner, wash the dishes, start laundry, and go to bed. Sometimes michael thought his father was scared of his mother, and he couldn't blame him. She was a cruel woman. At one point he thought they must have loved eachother, at least for a long enough time to get married. But since he had turned eight, his mother had been different. Less caring, more cruel. She didn't so much look at him as though he were that happy little boy she had birthed, but more like he was a neusance that she simply had to put up with long enough.

Neither of them ever asked where he was going, and he could stay out all night at Ezzy's house without calling, and there was barely a question from his mother where he had gone. His father loved him, he knew that, but somehow he got the idea that he was too afraid of his mother and her opinions to speak up, show interest. So, he kept to himself. Kept everything to himself if he could manage it. Michael never wanted to let people see exactly what he was feeling, what he was thinking. His mother was proof enough that he wasn't supposed to think, or feel those things. So he hid them. Left them in a dark corner of his mind, unwanted, unfullfilled.

"Are you sure you want to go to the Circus, pretty thing?" Yurick asked with that thick and unplacable accent. It was something like scottish, but smoother. Somehow as if someone had tailored the accent, made it something that made you want to melt and squeal about it. Micheal bounced in the boy's lap until he could wrap arms and legs around him, grinning from ear to ear, small kitty cat fangs on his bottom and top jaws. He wasn't trying to control himself well, and it made Yurick nervous. He smiled, running fingers through that so surprisingly silky black hair, amazed at the little bundle of joy in his lap. He hadn't fed yet that night, hadn't taken the blood of another into himself, or he would have had a more evident showing of his happiness.

"Course I do! I've wanted ta go since I was little[iYou're too small, michael. You would be too afraid. It's just full of more monsters.[/i nobody thinks I could take a little scare. I can handle it." he visibly pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, looking angry and sulky at the same time. His brows came together with the force of that pout, and Yurick laughed, tickling him under the ribs. "You're a sweet little thing, aren't you?" he sounded as if he would have liked to send michael off with piles of sugar, watch him run around until he crashed like a toddler, sleeping in the middle of the floor. Now he understood why Ezzy couldn't resist slipping him something. Though he himself wouldn't have given him quite so much. Three shots just didn't seem like the right amount for someone with such a fast metabolism. Sure it would go through him quicker, but that also meant it would hit him faster, harder, and all at once, instead of over time.

"Well, let's go then." he glanced up at Ezzy, who was still grinning that thick wicked grin. She wanted to see how the boy reacted to all the different attractions. They would still be open, seeing as it was night time. His family had kept him pretty closed off from other supernaturals, magic of all kinds, pretty much. She thought it was really closed minded of them, but then his mother was a biggoted bitch. She couldn't figure out how they managed to not care about where he went, but still managed to keep him closed off from the magical community. She was planning on chanigng that.

Michael hopped off Yurick's lap to do a quick spin and dance on the floor, nearly falling over. His head was starting to spin, and there was an odd rushing feeling, as if he were a ghost, barely solid in a rushing river. He liked it. A low purr was still constant in his throat, and he wanted to simply dash around, jumping on everything, singing, dancing, laughing, playing. Ezzy came over, hooking her arm with his. "Come on you big fairy, let's go see zombies." she grinned, knowing that at least would catch his attention. He cuddled against her, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder, clinging to her as if she were his most favorite person in the world; Which she was. Yurick smiled, slipping from his own seat, putting his hands into his front pockets, pinkies still sticking out. He wore a shirt michael couldn't tell whether it was blue, or dark grey, being as the light was so terrible in the room. It was tucked into his tight jeans, and again he wasn't sure whether those were grey or blue. He blinked, actually looking at the boy. He was taller than michael was, his nose coming only up to the boy's chest. So maybe five six, five seven. Michael always had a good head for numbers.

His hair was long, just barely brushing his shoulders, and curly. Ever so slightly. It wasn't thick or poofy though, and michael liked that. He remembered the feel of those curls under his fingers, as if he had collected some substance on his fingers, silky and smooth under his hands. The boy's face was young, but there was a potential for growth, as if he hadn't finished filling out yet. Handsome. Michael usually called people pretty, cute, or beautiful, but this guy was handsome. He had a solid bone structure, pale skin that looked like he could tan up to a nice color, and light brown eyes that reminded michael of dark caramel. Michael did so love applying candies to people's features. He liked to think of them like sweets he could taste and try, see if he liked them. It helped that he could smell their skin from several feet away. Yep, big plus.

Pushing gently away from Ezzy he waltzed to the boy again, throwing arms up and around his neck to stare into those eyes. They were so pretty..looking closer he noticed that they had a ring in the center, almost undetectible. It was a ring slightly lighter colored than the rest of his eyes, and this close they made them look like rings of fine precious metal. There was an exasperated sigh from behind him, and he turned confused eyes to Ezzy, raising both eyebrows even as he pressed up against the boy. "Yurick, stop doing that." The spanish girl walked over, moving to peel michael's hands from around the brown haired vampire's neck, but Michael growled at her. "Mine." he said, laying his cheek against the boy's chest, glaring at her with a low sound in his throat.

"Fine, fine." Ezzy stepped back, hands up, sparing a glance at Yurick, but the brown haired vampire shook his head. "I havn't done anything, Elizabeth. He's drunk." he grinned, showing he was quite enjoying having the lovely boy pressed up against him, hands going to rest at his lower back. Michael squirmed, giggling in delight. Ezzy shook her head, putting hands on her hips. "He never touches people. Doesn't like to be touched. He should be in a corner, blushing so hard blood's coming out his nose." She stuck her tongue out, pouting. She was always the one michael hung all over, and she had to admit, actually seeing him with someone else made her feel jealous, even though she had wanted to set the two of them up. But then, that was just the tequila. Or she supposed it was. She was sure when it wore off, she would still want to press them together like dolls, and make kissing noises. The thought of michael actually getting together with another guy made her want to run around and sing. She supposed that she would even be willing to dress in pink, just for the chance of him being happy with someone.

"Thank god for alcohol, huh?" she grinned, feeling a little tipsy herself. Having an uncle with a 'free spirit' complex, who also owned a bar was a wonderful thing. Moving around the two, michael's eyes following her like she were going to try and take Yurick away, she headed for the door, moving to hold it open for them. "Well, let's go then." Michael squirmed, making giggly happy noises as he jumped up, showing that extensive agility in throwing his arms around Yurick's shoulders, squeezing his knees against the boy's hips instead of wrapping them around him. People were starting to stare, but michael didn't care. He wanted to go see the zombies.

"Well, I don't know how we're going to do this...he seems to want to stay with me, but you said you were staying until closing, and I shall have to sleep before then." Ezzy pushed the door open further as they went out, letting it stip closed behind them. Michael grinned, laying his head down on Yurick's shoulder as they moved, the brown haired boy smiling as hands wrapped around michael's waist, holding him in place. He was actually quite surprised at how light the boy was. He felt like he would blow away in the wind. He was so skinny someone would think he had a tapeworm. He just felt so...delicate.

"S' easy, idn't it?" michael murmured, and they both looked at him, stopping halfway to Ezzy's car. She had gotten it when she was seventeen, a birthday present from her uncle's wife. She really did love her uncle..a pretty little red thing, but neither she nor michael were so inclined to actually know what kind. A honda, they had concluded. But they weren't sure. Both sets of brown eyes settled on michael, and he pushed himself up, a wide grin on his face. "I go with him you follow, an when he goes to bed, we drive home in your car." he giggled, kicking his feet out behind Yurick suddenly, the boy having to shoot his hands down to catch him before he slid down. It made the Asian shifter squirm happily, that bruise on his butt stinging slightly. "Well, I suppose that's a plan. You don't mind, do you Elizabeth?" Yurick grinned as the spanish girl shook her head, putting hands on her knees to look up Michael's skirt, Yurick wriggling his hands in an acomidating fashion, the skirt moving up to rest around michael's waist.

"Heeeyyyy! That's cold!" he playfully slapped Yurick on the shoulder, moving to squeeze his knees around the boy's hips, booted feet moving to press into the front of the vampire's thighs as he let go, pushing himself up as if he were on the most stable surface imaginable. Yurick's eyes went wide as michael pulled his skirt down, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Ezzy tilted her head to the side, Yurick's hands going back to michael's waist, but he had a look on his face that said that he wasn't sure that he actually needed to be holding him. He was drunk, but michael was still just as agile as a cat. He finished pulling his skirt down, then settled down against the boy, smiling as if he hadn't done anything strange at all. He was always licking his wounds, sniffing at odd smelling people. Ezzy was used to it, and Yurick spent enough time around shifters to be used to those odd actions, but he hadn't ever spent time with them crawling all over him like he was a jungle gym. The look on his face was simply priceless, and Ezzy couldn't help laughing as she made her way to the car. "Well, you two have fun then, and don't be too long, will you?" She turned, giving Yurick a dark and knowing look. She didn't wriggle her eyebrows, because she wasn't teasing. Alright, not as much as normal. She was serious.

Michael in her opinion needed someone to bring him out of that thick and stuttering shell, that prison built of his own fears and insecurities. And she knew if anyone could do it without breaking him, it would be Yurick. It did help he was such a scrumptious guy. And she knew he liked the same sort of things that michael did. Those so special 'touches' that made the boy want to writhe on the floor. she knew he was still a virgin, which wasn't bad in her books, and was actually kind of expected. But they would get on like bread and butter, and she was content to just imagine it. Ooh she had a very dirty mind, but she knew that. And it was her second best friend, after michael. She got in her car, buckled up, and cast one last glance at the two. Michael was clinging to Yurick as if he were a happy monkey, kicking his feet and singing something under his breath, rolling his head left and right on the boy's shoulder. She grinned, moving to pull out and away. This was going to be fun.

Michael wasn't pronouncing the words of the song, and there were barely any Yurick understood. He was singing in Japanese, but he had a wonderful voice. Yurick made his way to his own car, a simply little jeep, and popped open the passenger side door, after nearly dropping a giggling michael while fumbling with his keys. He slid the boy out of his arms, who wriggled, commenting on how leather seemed to really stick to leather. He buckled himself in, barely containing himself as Yurick moved around, climbing into the driver's seat. "So, we get ta go to the circus now? For real?" he couldn't believe how awesome this was. He had gotten new clothes, and he had danced, and had a yummy drink, met a very handsome guy that smelled so yummy he wanted to just eat him, and now he got to go to the Circus of the damned. This night was just getting cooler and cooler.

Durring the drive, michael couldn't help but keep glancing over at Yurick, wriggling in his seat as if he wanted to simply move over and crawl on him again, clasping his hands together between his knees, rubbing his knuckles over the leather of his new boots. They were so much fun. He found himself turning to look out the window at the lights and buildings going by, but that had made him dizzy, so he leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. The Circus wasn't that far away, he knew that, but it felt like this was taking an eternity. "Yurick...right?" he murmured to himself, seeing the boy nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yes. That's my name. And I don't suppose Elizabeth told you anything about me? That I'm a vampire?" he sounded amused, not the least bit irritated. He had the idea that Ezzy had simply gone and invited him without telling michael anything.

Michael's eyes went wide, and he blurted out, "Is that why ya smell funny?" he immediately slapped hands to his mouth, a blush pushing over his cheeks, and Yurick burst out laughing. "Yeah, yeah, that's why I smell funny. Not human, kinda like snakes?" he glanced sideways at michael, giving him a smile that made him want to squirm and giggle like a little girl. Michael didn't think he'd ever met any guy who had ever been nice to him right off the bat. He nodded, letting his hands drop. He had a sheepish apologetic smile on his face. "It ain't a bad smell..just different. I like snakes, anyways. They feel so smooth and cool, an they have fangs." he wasn't too interested in explaining the last part, about why fangs were so cool, but Yurick smiled wider, showing those pointed tips, as if every smile before that had been careful, not showing them. Michael leaned over in his seat, hand actually going out as if he would touch Yurick's lips, but he pulled away, settling back in his seat with a look of lofty disinterest.

Yurick gave him a raised eyebrow, a look of slight confusion. "You can touch them if you want, but not until after we've stopped driving. Bumps in the road." he didn't want to catch the boy and bleed him. Vampires had an anti coagulant in their saliva that made it hard for blood to clot up, kept it flowing. Michael nodded his head, thinking to himself that he wouldn't actually mind if he got bit. He shivered, a sudden image of Yurick clamped down on his neck making him whimper softly, wrapping arms around himself. Yurick didn't take his hands off the wheel, or his eyes off the road, but he sat up a little straighter, a familiar scent floating through the car. "Are you alright?" he asked. That smell...that scent of lust spread thick like perfume, and he wanted to turn so he could see Michael's face, wondering just what had suddenly done that to him. He supposed he could simply blame it on the alcohol. Yes, lust in the face of intoxication made plenty sense to the brown haired vampire.

Michael nodded his head, slipping down in his seat a little bit, resting his hands casualy in his lap. He didn't want to explain what had gone on in his head, and he most certainly wasn't going to tell someone he just met that he had instant and lusty urges for him to hurt him. It confused him, but he also enjoyed it. There was just something about the idea of fangs in his flesh, in his muscle, something about it that made him want to-

No. He shook his head, sitting up straight again, cutting off that line of thought. Yurick shivered a little. Michael was thinking things that were bothering, and exciting him, and his energy, power, magic, whatever it was, was spreading out in the car. Yurick smelled something sweet like spices, the power pouring silk and cool over his skin as if he were standing in a stream of water that was just the right temperature. Just this side of warm, or cool. He wasn't sure which. It was both, and neither. He wanted to lean back, smile, let it wash over him. It was making it hard to concentrate on driving. "Michael, you have to calm yourself. Whatever you're thinking, it's filling the car with energy, and I can't concentrate on driving." his voice was smooth, soft, that accent just a touch thicker. It didn't feel like lycanthrope energy, it felt magic enough, but it just wasn't that brand of magic. "What are you?" he asked, rubbing thumbs over the steering wheel.

Michael shook his head, pushing himself to draw back into his human body. He had felt it before, that touch as if he were spreading out. Usually it was right before he pushed into an animal form, but it had been different. He hadn't wanted to change, he had wanted to strip. His brain was filled with confusing thoughts, and the odd swirling dizziness that he had enjoyed so much before was making it harder to concentrate. He liked Yurick, he could tell Yurick liked him, and he didn't see why he should simply just keep from doing what he wanted. Didn't see what was wrong in it. Michael was shy, but he was also sluty enough to match Ezzy push for push. He didn't think human, not usually. Panthers and wolves don't see sense in not taking what they wanted, who they wanted, if they could. But still there was that thriving pit of him, full of so much body freezing embarrassment and self conciousness that he couldn't truly be himself.

"I'm...well, I don't know the word for it. I can change into a bunch 'a things..I just gotta learn. Not a lycanthrope though. No matter what form I'm in, ya can't catch it. I'm just...magic." he grinned. michael was proud of what he was, and he really did wish he could tell more people. Yurick pulled into the parkinglot for the Circus, but he pulled into the back, michael's eyes glued to the front of the building. It had posters of the attractions, bright lights, there was circus music playing, and above the doors there were clowns, moving back and forth with their wide gleeful smiles, and if you looked close enough, they had fangs. "Oooo..." Yurick laughed, a full and happy sound. Michael looked at him, giving him curious eyes as he parked. "You're just so precious, aren't you?" he said, and michael blushed again, looking down to fumble with his buckle, wishing his hair were loose so it would fall around his face.

Yurick leaned over, gently slaping at his hands to make him let go, unbuckling him. "I'm not precious...an I'm not a kid." michael felt like sulking, and he slipped into it like a comfortable pair of shoes, crossing his arms. He had to let them down again though, as the belt released and tangled up under them. He didn't want to admit he was being silly. He felt air against his shoulder and looked over, Yurick's face inches from him and his pulse suddenly sped, making him freeze where he was, so close to those caramel brown eyes. Yurick smiled wide, a dark look in his eyes as he scooted closer, an odd smooth grace to the motion that humans just couldn't pull off.

"Yes, you are.." he put a hand on the edge of the seat so he could pull over without falling, knees going to the floor between the seats as he moved, michael actually leaning back a little as that face came closer, going dizzy trying to keep all of him in view. "W-what are y-y-ya d-doin..?" he stuttered, licking out over his bottom lip a moment. He had an idea, okay, so he knew, but he was too surprised, too flustered to actually act on it, to let his hands come up and to the boy's shoulders like he wanted. One minute he was crawling all over the boy, the next he wanted to run and hide. He was so going to beat himself with sticks later.

"I know you want me to touch you, I can smell it in the air, hear it in the so quick beat of your heart. You're frightened, and excited, and it's almost too much to bear." Yurick grinned, his other hand sliding up the side of the leather seat as if he were caressing it, making michael bite down on the corner of his lip, eyes following the motion until Yurick moved closer, eyes darting back to him. Michael squirmed, as if he were already feeling fingertips over his skin, very painfully aware that he was wearing barely anything. "J-just like that? J-j-just a little s-s-s-sniff an y-ya wanna c-c-crawl a-a-all o-over m-me..?" He looked down, Yurick's lips parting, and he wanted to kiss him, but he saw fangs, and knew there wouldn't be any escaping them, and still it excited him. He whimpered, moving his hands down to his lap, hiding himself.

Yurick pulled back, grinning as he sat back on his heels. Michael blinked, suddenly so confused. Yurick wasn't angry, or irritated, and he knew the boy still wanted to touch him, he could smell it. That thick sweet push of pheramones; Lust. "W-what..?" He licked out over his bottom lip again, pulling the corner of his lip in to bite down on it, fidgetting, squirming in his seat. Yurick laughed, a soft and happy sound as he moved back into his own seat, pushing the door open. "You're too cute. And I think I'd rather wait, let you actually want me, instead of the heavy trick of alcohol." he smiled, and it made michael smile, despite his confusion and sudden feeling of sadness. Yurick slid out of his side of the jeap, and closed the door, jingling the keys happily as he went around to open michael's door, the boy almost tumbling out onto the ground. He had been leaning on the door, blinking when it burst open from his weight.

Yurick set him on the ground, and he had actual trouble walking, a thick blush plastered across his face as he was forced to have to hold onto the vampire boy with both hands, the new shoes suddenly awkward on his feet. He was confused, dissapointed, and happy. He was so unbearably happy. He couldn't explain it, even though he had wanted to be pounced on moments before, he was happy this guy was so nice...wanted him, not the touches. He cared. Somehow, he cared. It was such a big change from what he was used to, he just wanted to dance and sing. He tripped, and Yurick caught him. Yeah, he would dance after the world stopped it's own dancing. 


	6. Chapter 6  Help Me

Yurick fairly steered michael toward the front of the circus, acting as thought he could have waited all night for the Asian boy to stumble his way forward. Faintly he knew that he shouldn't be stumbling, but michael was enjoying the happy bubbly feeling, the giggles that seemed to come from his mouth unbidden as if they were simply inviting themselves out and into the air, his arms around the brown haired vampire's arm. He just wanted to keep hanging onto him, and smelling that so different scent of him.He wasn't sure why he was so instantly attracted to him, but he supposed part of that could be that he had fallen so drunkenly into the boy's brown eyes. He wasn't irritated about it though. It hadn't been long enough or hard enough to keep him, to take his mind and bend him to Yurick's will. But the falling, that sensation of utter blissful surrender, it had tickled that masochistic center of him, and made him just more intrigued with the boy.

They came within view of the front of the building, and Michael's eyes slid over the terribly macabre and terrible posters plastered over the walls where they could fit. It was all arranged just so, in such a way that your eyes wandered from one poster to another, and they all complimented each other, until you were found helplessly looking over them all again, as if each complimented the next and somehow made it look greater than the one before it. An endlessly enticing circle. Michael's eyes stuck to the poster about "Live Zombie Rasings Every Night!" and he grinned. It was something he had always wanted to see, remembering seeing old black and white movies about the dead rising and taking their slow shambling steps, eating people. It wasn't so much he wanted to see people get eaten, on the contrary. He wanted to see if the movies were accurate. He had so many things he wanted to compare, and it was like he was in science again, cause and effect, theory and fact, the ideas struck through his dulled mind like lightning on tree branches. He giggled, leaning into Yurick.

"Welcome Kiddies, to The Circus Of The Damned!" there was a terrible sounding female villain laugh, and Michael jumped despite himself, his stomach giving an unhealthy sloshing as his head whipped to the side, hands gripping the arm under his fingers as if he would beat the voice with it. Suddenly giggles broke out, and Ezzy tossed a cigarette to the ground, stamping it out under her boot heel. Michael curled his lip at her, then stuck his tongue out while wrinkling his nose. "You're gonna end up sounding like a Vegas grandma someday, Ezzy." he said, voice sounding soft and somehow firm at the same time. There was an odd feeling of unease in his head, and he could smell something sick and old from the building as they drew near the doors, small puffs of smells coming out. But it was like fifty cooks in one kitchen, each making something different, but all making something very pungent. The scents mixed together, making him want to both sniff harder, and cover his nose.

He was suddenly not eager to push into that thick cloud of smell, and the sounds of laughter, talking, and screaming came as one thick rushing wave, making him want to run. He quivered lightly, and he wasn't so sure that it was just the alcohol he could smell coming off himself now. He licked out over his bottom lip. He wasn't a child anymore, he could handle this. He stood up straighter, pulling that sulk around him like a worn and favorite coat, eyes narrowing in irritation as Ezzy rolled eyes at him, shoving the thin package of cigarettes in between her breasts, Yurick's eyes following her hand like they were meant to. With a soft shove he pushed the brown haired vampire away from him, moving to stalk on his own. He was still dizzy, but he was walking on more solid ground than the parking lot, and he had that sullen exterior to make him feel more solid. He felt that small push to animal, and that made him stop a moment.

He wasn't sure why he wanted to change, or what was pushing it, but he took a deep breath and tried to pull it back in, as if he were taking steps back himself, backing away from something. There was a cry in his muscles, in his head, that urge and want to go down on all fours and stalk forward, feel the ground under his thick furred paws, use that pale white-blue gaze and glare around at anyone who dared say he couldn't be there. He felt a little sheepish for the thought, but thicker was that need to prove himself, to assert himself as being allowed to be there, as having the right. He would take this place and conquer it, make it someplace he could go without fear.

Or that was his plan. But as he pushed open the doors, he stalked in, that swaying roll of hips with one boot in front of the other as a wave of smell and sound hit him, making him stagger slightly. It wasn't so much shocking, as simply a rush of just too much at once. He smelled sweat, fear, that stale scent of corn dogs left under lamps, of cotton candy made and packaged longer than they actually say, old popcorn, and the acrid scent of vomit. Underneath it all, there was blood. He didn't understand the scent of blood being there. It was both old, and new. He tilted his head to the side as if he were listening to things other than the screaming and excitement. As if he were thinking thoughts colder and calmer than anything you should have been thinking in a place so alive with the rush and push of humanity and controlled fright.

A warm hand on his bare shoulder and he looked back, blinking white blue eyes at Ezzy, and another hand at his arm, a cooler more solid thing brought his gaze to Yurick. Ezzy hadn't seen the eyes, but Yurick had felt that energy. "You feel like you're thinking things that aren't entirely human, Michael." Michael blinked eyes at him. How could this guy read him so easy? He hadn't really thought about it before, but maybe he felt what Michael felt...that soft pushing of energy. Well, it was soft now. It tended to rush like a hot torrent if he was angry or frightened enough. But he had thought it was just something he felt alone. He would have to remember to ask him later about it.

"As you've pointed out already tonight, I ain't entirely human." he gave the boy a look of slight irritation, and wasn't sure why he was snapping at him. He shook his head, moving forward with them still touching him. He felt a small bit of comfort from the touch, like he should have leaned into them and let them pet him, stroke his fur. ..That wasn't right. He wasn't covered in fur, and he wanted to go see Zombies.

But with the hard press of humanity around them, he wasn't really sure where they were supposed to be going, and he stopped, bitting down on his lower lip as a sudden feeling of dizziness stole over him. He wasn't liking it so much anymore, and he wanted to pant, as if that would make the slightly irritating feeling in his stomach go away. It wasn't hunger...and if it was that he had hunger somewhere in that feeling, he couldn't tell. He felt like he might vomit if he smelled something sweet or tangy too close under his nose. He wanted to suddenly run and flee from the building, but he steeled himself, rolled his shoulders. It was too close in here, entirely too close..

"Oh come on mikey, the zombies are this way. we wait for you to figure it out, and we'll miss the show." Ezzy pulled him forward, rolling her eyes again with a smirk on her face. She tugged them to one of the low tents to either side of the taller tent, ducking them inside. Michael scratched faintly at the back of his hand, looking down to see a little red stamp on the back, a grinning fanged smiley face. It looked oddly sinister for a smiley face, but that wasn't the point. "This ink is itching me...Ezzy, where'd I get a stamp?" he didn't remember anything. They moved in, and Ezzy pulled them to seats in the front, grinning wide and bouncing in her seat before turning to the boy. "Mikey...right after we came in. I paid, the nice woman stamped you, and we moved on. You were really out of it, I thought you were just staring off into space again." She quirked an eyebrow at him, giving Yurick a look to say she obviously was thinking maybe she gave him too much alcohol.

The lights were dim, and the crowd was silent around them, and michael turned his head at a sharp and salty scent. Somehow thicker and hotter than the rest of the blood scent he smelled here. His eyes moved through the darkness, and he suddenly saw a beam of light from the ceiling, pointed at a circle in the middle. There was a crumpled white form, what looked like a large cotton ball sitting with one side coated in red, as if it had soaked up too much kool-aid. But michael knew what it was the moment he cast eyes on it, and his stomach gave an unwelcome roll, made him sit forward in his seat. Blood. something had been hurt down there, and it had bled.

A man stood in the center of a dark circle on the ground, and he had fingertips coated in red, michael swallowed, suddenly his throat was dry. The man wore something like what they always show voodoo shaman wearing in the old telly flicks, the black and white ones with the cheesiest dialog you ever heard. But this wasn't cheesy, not with the blood dripping off the tips of his fingers. The man suddenly spoke loud, casting a booming voice into the stands. A real public speaker, that one. He didn't sound like he was straining as he cast hands out dramatically, turning toward the center of his little ring. "Rise, Steven Hobs, rise and walk once again! I call you with Steal, and Blood! COME!" it was like the ground at the center of the ground there rippled, rolled. It was dirt, and it looked like some great giant had shivered, and the ground started spilling a man up from it's depths as if it were water, only too eager to spill the tattered horror into the spotlight.

Michael moved to his knees, crawling the little way to the barely there metal bars around the center of the tent. They looked as if they were meant for simply making people remember they weren't supposed to go any further, and he put hands up on it, heart beating in his throat. He wasn't too keen on the zombie now, no. His eyes were locked on the red at the man's fingertips, a soft sigh going through him as if he were watching the man handle precious sweets bare handed. He wanted to move over, lick that slick salty sweetness away. He pressed a hand to his belly, trying to calm it, but his eyes were locked, unblinking at those red and dripping tips.

A form came up from the ground, and started drawing himself up from the ground. There wasn't so much about the figure that would have made you think 'male' other than the fact that it were in a suit. Apart from that, the figure was wasted. Withered,sunken, torn. There were spaces where you knew the body had been eaten away by time, and others where it had been eaten away from something more lively. Grayed skin like paper sat over the bones, looking shrunken, as if one single movement would pop the bones out from it, as if the sheer weight of the suit must have been too much for it. But somehow, it moved, it crawled, it pulled itself to knees and looked suddenly lost and still there on the once moving ground. Solid and smooth, the earth was. As if it hadn't been spilling this terror into the so harsh light of the spotlight.

Soft cries, moans of fright, and a few shrieks here and there sounded from around, but there was a general and collective feeling of awe on the group. Michael swung so his feet were hanging over the edge, eyes flicking to the figure, and for a moment they held there. The creature was more like an unwrapped mummy, but somehow you knew it wasn't all dry skin and bones. There was simply a look of wet to the thing, and as it moved something thick and dark spilled from a hole in it's side, as if all the moving had jostled something loose. There was a cry of utter disgust from the crowd, and someone sobbed up in the higher seats. All the fear, all the metallic scent, it all washed over the boy and drowned out that scent of decay that suddenly filled his nostrils. Michael bit down on his bottom lip, but that didn't help the excited hunger in his throat as he gripped the bar above his head, curling his toes over and over in his shoes, knuckles white from his harsh grip.

He was fighting himself. One one side, he was thinking about how much he wanted to rush over, to take that blood. _It's cooling..it's never as good when it's cool.._ he thought to himself in a voice as if he were thinking about someone who he could have had some great sex with. As if he were letting something luscious and precious slip through his fingers. Thoughts kept chasing those, about how he simply couldn't, how he had to control himself, how he would get in trouble, and above all, how all eyes would be on him if he went out there. He didn't much like the thought of all those people suddenly paying attention, and a soft whimper of excitement, nerves, and near physical pain.

"Come, Steven. Feed on this small offering, and speak to us." there was suddenly an excited murmuring, but the man knelt, going down on one knee, holding out those bloody fingers. Michael watched with a sudden look of possessive irritation as he narrowed his eyes, watching that figure move agonizingly slowly forward. With a sudden spurt of speed, Michael threw himself forward, a graceful ark as he went down into a low crouch then threw himself into a run, but he didn't want to be on his feet, and it was easy enough with his current state, pushing into wolf form like he were slipping through water. Human before that liquid look rushed over him, and a wolf the size of a pony afterward. He ran, and the man's head turned as the crowd suddenly roared, cheering and pointing, excited voices.

His eyes went wide moments before he ran toward the man. The circle of blood was actually to keep the zombie in, and acted as a wall between the dead. They couldn't pass through it, but michael could. He felt it like a thick layer of cobwebs against his nose, his shoulders, paws. It clung to him and made him growl, wanting to push it away, but he had his target, and he wasn't going to let him escape. His paw caught at the blood line, and it tore that barrier down, his body slamming into the man and throwing him to the ground, his head cracking sickeningly against the dirt, and his head lolled on his neck in a way only an unconscious person could manage. His pulse beat in his throat, and michael was tempted, but he went for the more obvious scent of blood. He would clean that up, then seek more fresh and flowing food.

He moved off the man, head dipping down as he licked eagerly at those coated fingers. He had never tasted anything so good as this! It was like every fine christmas ham he had ever tasted, a smoky thick flavor, of the man's skin, and he faintly knew the huddled white form was a chicken. He found a wound, a pin prick on the man's skin and he rolled that finger into his mouth, and the knowledge that he was going to bit down on him, pull that finger away didn't phase him. He was hungry, and the man lay weak and vulnerable before him, and he would eat.

Suddenly deathly strong hands wrapped round his throat, and a sharp hard pain in his furred shoulder made him howl, let the hand drop unmarred from his jaws. He shook, howling his anger to the walls around as a thick snarl hit his throat. The zombie hadn't fed, and he had knocked out the only man keeping it from going feral. Keeping it from turning into a killer. It would hunt, and claw, and eat until it found enough sustenance to return enough sanity to it to be a thinking thing. Fed off enough blood a zombie could speak, remember, think. But it was an empty thing. It was a shell filled with memory, but it was truly dead. It could suffer, mimick emotion, but a zombie was empty of a soul. There were some who could bring the soul back, but it had to be trapped, contained until the spell had been completed. It was something that was looked down upon as badly as child molestation, or cannibalism. You just didn't do it. souls were meant to move on, whatever that meant for them.

There was screaming, but people weren't leaving their seats. They all thought it was still part of the show. Apart from Ezzy and Yurick. "Stay here, Elizabeth!" Yurick threw himself over the barrier, a look of fierce determination on his face. He knew michael had been drunk, but this was hardly the reaction he had expected. Didn't this boy have more control over his beasts than this? No..Of course he shouldn't have expected more. The boy was only fourteen. He couldn't have been living with them that long. He moved, but Michael was spinning, moving as if he were trying to throw the decrepit creature off his back. But he wasn't thinking, wasn't using his brain. And the zombie, though a mindless thing, just wasn't weak enough for such things to work.

Yurick moved, grabbing the thing by the shoulders and yanked it up off of michael, who howled appropriately as the arms stayed just where they were, the body tearing away from them. The hands clasped, fingers digging into the furred flesh under their fingers. There was a cool and somehow burning feeling at his right shoulder, where the thing's jaws had been clamped, and he whimpered, a low snarl at the end of the weak outburst. He was more angry now, with blood dripping from his shoulder than he had been. Before he sought to claim the food so proudly paraded in front of him, wanted to take lingering licks over that man's bare belly, and dig his muzzle into it, but now he wanted to rend the zombie limb from limb, tear it to pieces and howl his victory to the ceiling.

There was a moment of stillness, then michael whipped around, pouncing on the zombie danging from Yurick's hands, throwing them both to the ground as he tore at it, as a dog would a newspaper with the scent of another dog on it, tearing bits away until there was nothing left whole, as if he would have disjointed the thing at every joint, every connection, down to it's fingernails. He felt such anger and hatred for the thing that had hurt him, and his mouth was thick with the taste of the disgusting and decayed thing. He moved back to the center of that circle, eying the still blinking head, the still twitching and writhing bits as if they would each seek out food for themselves. Yurick stood, brushing the bits off himself, off his now blackened and filthy shirt, a look of soft surprise on his face.

Michael growled, a low rumble of warning in his throat as he stalked the edges of the circle, finally turning eyes into the suddenly cheering crowd. Whatever she saw, a woman close to him shrieked, throwing herself up and out of her seat. And like a wave of rats fleeing a flood, the crowd peeled from their seats in a wave, all moving to run away from him, rushing for the exits. He couldn't seem to be able to navigate his way under the metal barrier as he had before, shoulders too large, and he was trying to rush. With a howl of frustration, he spun, making to run to the opposite side, planning to simply leap the barrier with enough momentum to carry him over. He ran past Yurick, who suddenly threw himself on top of him, his strength and force pushing them both to skid across the ground.

Michael snarled, snapping at the hands that suddenly bound him, pushing himself to his pawed feet as he threw himself forward, spun, tossed. Yurick hung on, unsure what exactly to do. Would he have to kill the boy..? Surely that wouldn't be right. "GET JEAN-CLAUDE!!" his voice roared out over the fleeing shrieking people, catching the ears of those rushing to actually get into the tent. Guards, lycanthropes, the stronger workers. A few had guns pointed, and one female moved forward with the rest, and they moved as a wave, as if she were the master of their orchestra. "Don't kill him!" Ezzy's voice was high and frantic, eyes going between the black haired woman and the two figures wrestling in the center as if it were some kind of bloody floor show.

Anita Blake, holding her handgun in a sort of teacup grip moved forward, pushing air from her lungs in a soft calm movement, eyes going cold and empty. She was pulling herself into that white place where she killed, and those brown eyes somehow gone cold in her pale pretty face made Ezzy shiver. "He...he just needs to eat! He gets...he gets a little cranky.." her voice was soft, and the plea sounded weak even to her. The woman raised an eyebrow at her, as if she had said something insane.

"what do you want me to do, Kid? You want to go down there and offer yourself up before he rushes the crowd?" her tone was empty, cold. She wasn't trying to be cruel, but she wouldn't be able to stop him if she wasn't in that cold center, that calm and empty place where she killed. Ezzy fidgeted, actual tears in her eyes, and she sobbed a moment. "He...he's only fourteen.." that caught her, and she flinched, but she wasn't going to let one kid kill a bunch of people. "I'll just wound him, if I can. But it's him or them, and I'm going for the poor humans. Sorry." she did sound like she meant it, as she raised her gun to point at the two figures, taking calm and sure steps forward as she slid herself quickly over the railing. Thank god for jogging shoes.

"Whoever you are, get off him NOW or I won't be responsible if you get hit." she faintly thought she recognized the curly head of brown hair, but couldn't he sure. If he was still wrestling with the black mass of wolf, then he must have been strong, and a small taste with her power breathed vampire over her skin. There was a feeling like hot water boiling over her skin the closer she got to them, and she could feel it pushing at her, and her own more alive powers tried to rise up to meet it, taste it, but she squashed them down.

Yurick turned surprised eyes up, and then jumped back and clear of the snarling figure who whipped around, pale wolf eyes landing on her. It wasn't like most shifters she came across. There was always that push of human to them, always that shine or hold of their eyes that made you think that what ever was looking out at you wasn't just human, but there was nothing in there but animal. Nothing you could talk to, or reason with. "Shit." She said it with meaning, and she steadied her hand, blew a slow breath out, aiming between those eyes. She wasn't sure, but she just felt that a crippling wound would just piss the thing off more. She wanted him stopped, and in that moment she believed that stopped meant dead.

"**_Enough._**" Jean-Claude's voice carried, slid through the room with that heated promise of pain, and it made the wolf shudder, whimper, shrink back into himself a moment. Anita had been just about to squeeze down on the trigger. You didn't pull the trigger of a gun as most people thought, you eased down on it. She moved her finger out, taking a step back. She kept it pointed though, moving her finger back once she had taken a few small breaths, calming herself.

Michael shuddered, he wasn't sure what had happened, but it had made him stop. Made him look around. He had felt pain, but there was nothing touching him anymore, and it confused him. Made him stop and look around. It had felt like heat had been spilled against his skin. Like dipping your finger in boiling water to see if it was hot yet, knowing if you weren't quick enough, it would burn. He cringed, the wolf in him making him want to roll over onto his back, bear his belly. He couldn't find the source of that hot flash, and it had scared him. He didn't want to test it again.

"Ma petite...If you would come back and away? I do believe I can _handle him._" Jean-Claude strode toward the barrier around the center of the tent, and he looked like a French 1800's wet dream. All lace and actual honest to god leather pants. Not this shiny stuff they have today, but brushed black leather. Laces held them together at the sides, lines of faintly broken white alabaster skin all the way down until his pants disappeared in knee height soft leather boots, somehow soft and loose, supple. The shirt was a white gauze thing, one that tied closed at the neck, but it was open, spilling the top apart over his skin, nearly as white as the bleached cloth, a cross shaped burn scar like a blemish, and an improvement in his skin. Lacy cuffs were held closed at his wrists by more string, but the lace was so intricate, so detailed it made the so simple shirt something elegant.

Black curls hung around his shoulders, a stark contrast against the so white shirt, midnight blue eyes shone from his face, long lashes in his fine boned face. High cheekbones, a somehow masculine and feminine face that made him look very much the fallen angel, complete with his perfect Cupid's bow lips. That voice slid over Michael's body like a caress, so different from the heat of before, and he whimpered, slipping from animal to human. So quickly the change was, so shocking the body underneath that both Anita and Jean-Claude stopped a moment, looking. Was such a delicate and somehow alluring frame really the center of all that anger and ferocity?

"S-s-sorry..s-s-sorry..." Michael murmured, barely a handle on himself, unable to form a coherent thought. He wanted to moan, that faint ghost of a touch hanging over him, but it was fading. He wanted more, and his lips were dry. He licked over them, turning his husky blue eyes up at the two figures as the black haired man gave him a wide and generous smile. He wasn't looking at him as potential sex though, and Anita was glad for it. Even though the...boy...? That was really a boy..? But the girl had said so, and it couldn't have been a slip. The boy was dressed like he should have been standing on a corner by an upscale night club, snaring rich men for the night.

The moment she thought it, she wanted to apologize. Her hands were starting to cramp around the gun, so she put the safety on, and pushed it back into it's shoulder holster, taking a deep and settling breath. Jean-Claude moved forward, using one long fingered hand to reach out to the boy who flinched, closing his eyes. When he wasn't hurt, he cracked an eye open, then took the hand with a thick angry blush on his cheeks. He didn't want to look silly, and he certainly hadn't had this man prove he was dominant to him, but he had to admit that it was hard getting up from the ground in the boots. He wasn't catching many actual human thoughts, still sitting in that space where instinct ruled.

"Now...Might I ask what you are going trying to eat my patrons..?" his voice was smooth, and that press of a silky caress moved over michael again, making him shiver, a soft moan in his throat. He couldn't help it. It hurt, and it felt good. He could smell the contained anger coming off the man, feel it like cold frostbite across his skin. He wanted to press against him, and push him away at the same time. "h-h-hungry..n-n-need ta eat..c-c-can't...can't.." tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt he wasn't expressing the feeling, the need correctly. One of the figures broke away from the rest as if he had been called, but there had been no vocalization of such a thing that michael had heard, and he knew he wasn't having hearing problems.

"I'll take him downstairs, get him something to eat." A boy taller than him came forward, long auburn hair braided and down to his calves. He had lavender eyes that michael couldn't tear his own away from, and he wanted to move toward him, smell him. There was a ruffling scent, a thick and heavy musk that caught his nose and a low curious keening noise sounded in his throat. He wanted to pull his hand from the man who suddenly tightened on him, but he stayed still, face going calm and waiting. He recognized that scent, the smell of a large cat. It was the first animal he had ever learned to shift into; panther; and the strongest influence in his mind. Well, when he wasn't pushed by wolf to feed. The wolf was a more aggressive press in his head, the more take and keep side of things. Panther was calm, and sometimes even detached. Calculating, but there was a warmth and contentment that he couldn't keep contained in the right moments. Those were the eager pushes of feline in his head.

"I'm Nathaniel. Want to go get something to eat?" He asked as if michael were someone on a ledge, all careful sweetness. He held his hand out, and michael reached for it, his hand in the vampire's letting go as he caught that offered hand. The boy was warmer than human, and michael pulled himself against him, and for a moment the boy went stiff, tense. As if he expected something sudden and violent to happen. But after a moment of michael simply pressing against him, sniffing at him, a low and heavy rumbling sounded against Nathaniel's chest, and he relaxed, a curious and pleased look on his face. "Hey mikey, I think he likes it." Ezzy grinned, leaning down on the railing around the ring. Eyes raised to hers, and she suddenly felt like she shouldn't have spoken.

"You will go home now, child. And we will call his parents, speak to them. But I do think he should be fed, and soon, lest we have to put him down in reality." secretly Jean-Claude wanted to speak to the boy. Find out just what he was. A quick look from the figures still standing in obvious body guard fashion, Anita, and the grinning Nathaniel said that they all wanted the same thing. Yurick came over, petting michael on the head with an apologetic look to Nathaniel, who was now tangled in the circle of the Asian boy's arms, said "Well, let's go get you food, pretty thing." He was trying to leave without being scolded, though he wasn't sure what he was afraid of. What had he done wrong?

"Yurick, we shall have to speak to you about your choice of entertainment for the furry and hungry." ..Oh...That.


	7. Chapter 7 Taste Me

The instant that Ezzy was out of sight, Michael had whimpered and clung to Nethaniel, pulling close to that so familiar scent, refusing to let go. He couldn't have explained it himself if he had tried. He didn't want to be alone, not with so many odd smells, the scent of blood coming off of everyone around him apart from the auburn haired boy. He had buried his face in that vanilla scented skin, and for a moment he was tempted to bite down at that hard pulse in his throat, but a sharp knock on the top of his head made him settle down, made him simply content himself with smelling, scenting that skin. At first it was sweet. A warm and baking scent, as if he would have ran like sugar over michael's tongue if he licked him. He had licked him, keeping his teeth away, as that had earned him his sharp rap on the head. He had the boy's shirt clutched in his fisted hands, looking like he were a child who had been saved from the monsters.

The boy had laughed against him, and he didn't understand the reaction, not entirely. He was tasting him, trying to see what he was, and the boy had wriggled. It wasn't the reaction he had expected, not really. He had thought he would be hit again, reprimanded for doing something so forward. He wasn't thinking in such clear terms however, he simply wasn't dominant in his own mind for such endeavors. Though he couldn't hold back his curiosity. He had never smelled another panther outside the zoo, and his head was so full of that feral thinking that he had climbed up into the boy's lap the minute they had sat down.It was different, not quite him, but it still musky, that hard hot scent of a cat, the warm smell of heated thick fur in the sunshine. He straddled him, hands clinging in his shirt, nuzzling that warm stretch of bare skin where the neck of his shirt stopped. He had tried to nose under the shirt, but that had earned him a whack on the head too.

There were voices around him, but he couldn't hear them. He didn't lick now, didn't nibble or bite, simply rubbed his jaw over and over that warm skin under his cheek, a low purr in his throat. He had melted into the boy the moment he had the position for it, leaning into him instead of being held and carried by him. There was a warm rumbling under his own hands, and he couldn't help feeling delighted that he wasn't being a bother. He took it as an invitation, snuggling against him as if he were a kitten, snuggling down with a brother or sister.

"What are we going to do with him, then?" Anita had her arms crossed, her handgun tucked back in it's shoulder holster once more. she had discarded the light jacket she had worn once they made their way through the circus, and down into the lower depths of the place, to the underground area where the vamps slept for the day. There was just no sense in wearing it, as everyone had seen the gun so many times that they barely noticed it anymore, and she had been getting hot. She was the one who had kept hitting the Asian boy on the head as if he were a bad kitten. He was dressed so..scantily, and like a woman no less. To say it bothered her was an understatement, and more than that, he was crawling all over one of her lovers. He was not earning himself many points in her books.

Jean-Claude had refused to answer any of her questions until they had gotten down into the underground, in the improvised living room. It looked as though it where something out of a dream, or a movie set, but that was because of the walls, really. They were draped in white and silver cloth, covering the actual walls, which were made of stone, and tended to make the place look like a dungeon. The carpet was plush and white, and felt like it should have let you sink into it, like having to wade through snow or wet sand.

the furniture was all white leather; A couch long enough for five people to sit comfortably, two arm chairs that looked like they would have cost twenty grand each easy, a glass coffee table done in silver around the edges, and the curving legs underneath, a faux fireplace that you could actually have fires in, and the thing that the whole room was centered around; A painting of three figures clothed in the colors scattered around the room; Gold, silver and white. Jean-Claude, asher, and Julianna, in a painting that had Anita re-think Jean-Claude's age to more around 400.

"Well, first I believe we should feed him, as it seems he doesn't quite have a hold on himself at the moment. He is like a baby vampire who has not yet fed. Curious.." Jean-Claude's voice was amused, but it also held that barely detectable tone of excitement.

Yurick was sitting on the couch next to Nethaniel, feeling like a worried boyfriend who's date had gotten just a little too out of hand in public. He kept wanting to peel Michael away from Nethaniel, but every time he tried it was like earlier, and michael growled. They had sent Jason to go get him something to eat. "Food's here." a cheerful voice called from the top of the stairs, Jason making his bouncy way down, holding a sack of takeout, apparently filled with hamburgers.

"Try putting it under his nose. No doubt he cannot smell anything else right now but our precious Nethaniel." Jean-Claude's voice was mild, but there was humor in it. He was enjoying watching the Asian boy crawl all over the auburn haired shifter. Anita wasn't all that comfortable with it, and she wasn't so sure that it was a good idea to send someone over to the boy, especially with food. "What if he just bites him?" She asked in a dry tone, crossing her arms under her breasts. You couldn't actually cross your arms over your chest when the breasts got large enough, and it made it hard to look tough cradling your own breasts.

Jason took one of the plain hamburgers out of the bag and moved over to Nethaniel, doing what Jean-Claude had told him. He knew better than to question the vampire himself, and preferred not to be suffering from a swollen cheek from smarting off. Oh, he still did it, but he just didn't want to deal with the consequences. He gave Nethaniel a grin before moving around to the back of the couch so he could put the hot warm smell of the hamburger under Michael's nose. His head shot up nearly instantly, and Jason was about to take a step back when quick slender arms lashed out, snatching the food from his hands as the Asian boy rolled off Nethaniel's lap, and into a crouch on the floor.

There were a few curious looks around the room, and a few confused. He had moved so fast that he had been a soft blur. As if one were looking through a camera lense, and the picture wasn't properly focused. Michael gobbled down the food in a swiftness that made Anita put a hand over her stomach. "Is he even swallowing?" she sounded as if the whole idea made her want to feel sick about it. "I don't think he is." Jason's surprised lilt came, looking on with slightly wide eyes. Nethaniel shifted, sitting up on the couch and Michael moved from crouching to sitting suddenly, hit bottom hitting the floor as he pushed to cross his legs. He growled low in his throat as the boots made it difficult, the heavy bottoms hitting each other before he spread his legs wide, throwing one over the other then tucking them under himself.

He stuffed the last of the burger into his mouth, then looked around expectantly, a shine in his eyes. He still had that mostly feral look to him, but there was something...like sun peeking through heavy rain clouds. He was slowly spilling back into himself. He reached hands out toward Jason as if he knew what was in the bag he was holding. "Just give him the whole thing, Jason. Maybe if he can just fill himself, we can get someone to actually talk to quicker." Anita was getting impatient. She was actually grateful that the boy wasn't on Nethaniel anymore, but she wanted to get things going. How had they missed a panwere? Or, she thought maybe he was one. He had been a wolf out in the ring, but then he had been purring. And spending enough time with werewolves, she knew that they most certainly didn't purr.

Jason moved forward, shrugging as he handed the bag to the Asian boy. Michael took it, and ripped it in half from the top, pulling a hamburger out with each hand and started digging into them. The way he ate made it look like he hadn't eaten in a week. He hardly chewed, rather just making the bites small enough for them to actually fit down his throat. Around his fourth he slowed down though, looking around as if he had only just realized there were other people in the room, and perhaps he should be more polite. He scooted, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he moved with his back facing everyone in the room he could, but it made him face Nethaniel again, and he suddenly forgot to eat, the last hamburger raised half to his lips as his eyes went suddenly wide, and his blush thickened to the point that he looked like red paint spread over bleached white paper. His stomach gave a protesting roll, insisting that he had to eat that fifth hamburger. He wasn't even half full yet.

"S-s-sorry.." he murmured, dipping his head, wishing again that his hair were loose about his shoulder so it would slide forward, hide his face. He felt like he should be apologizing to everyone, but he knew he had to eat, and dipped his head down, chewing at the hamburger. He still ate it like he were starving, but he tried to be quiet, and hide as much as he could with his body. "Wow..he's got a real pretty voice, doesn't he?" Nethaniel reached out, ruffling michael's hair. He had really expected a more high voice from the boy, and it was probably from what he was wearing. He looked like if he had just a touch of makeup, he would look like a girl. A very pretty girl. Michael leaned his head into that touch, but there was no purring this time. He was enough of himself to feel embarrassed, and moved away again almost immediately, even though what he wanted to do was crawl back up into that lap.

"Now that you have eaten, perhaps we could have a few words..?" Jean-Claude's voice was like silk sliding down his spine, and he shuddered, nearly bitting the finger he had slipped into his mouth to suck that meaty flavor away. The burgers had been plain, and he felt like he needed a drink, but with so much in his stomach he really didn't want that heavy sloshing from water or anything else. It was the one thing about eating so much that actually made him sick; That addition of liquid, too light, moving around with every movement. "W-w-words..?" he sounded nervous, and bit down on the corner of his lip as he internally kicked himself. He didn't know any of these people except Yurick, and he had just met him. He had climbed into a stranger's lap and fucking LICKED him. He wasn't going to play the child this time, not without Ezzy there to hold his hand. His internal feelings were too precious to spend on people who wouldn't understand how important it was that he let them see that gooey center of him.

Planting a hand on the carpet he twisted, letting his upper body spin him around until his back faced the front of the couch, swinging his feet out and crossing them at the ankles, leaning back into the couch as he put elbows back on the couch coushion. His left elbow brushed that auburn haired boy who smelled so much like cat, and he glanced over, a look of bored curiosity, as if he wanted to look, but wasn't interested in what he would find. He looked back, hands pulled against his body so he could have touched over his ribs if he wanted, tilting his head to the side like a curious cat. He looked between the black haired woman and the black haired vampire. He could smell the man's scent everywhere in the room, and he felt like if he rolled around on the couch or one of the chairs, that he would leave smelling like him. He recognized both from the news, from newspapers. Anita Blake of animator's inc. and Jean-Claude, master vampire of the City of Saint Luis. He felt even more of a pig now, but he let a grin spread over his face.

"Well, for starters you can tell us why in the hell you were trying to rip into the entertainment." Anita put a hand on her hip, letting the other hang limp at her side. Michael had the courtesy to look embarrassed again, then he let his head fall back. He tried rubbing his ankles together, only to find that the leather stuck together, and didn't actually rub. He wanted some sort of hidden nervous action to vent his sudden seeping pit of squirmy discomfort, but he didn't have anything, so he stared at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the room, and it still wasn't entertaining. "Well, that'd be 'cause Ezzy didn't feed me, an then there was blood. Chicken blood, if I remember. But y'know." he shrugged. "Can't really keep human thoughts in my head when I'm hungry. Food kinda..." he waved a hand, searching for a word. "Sates me. Makes me calm an comfy. Y'know..like real animals. They're not as jumpy or pissy when they've fed, an I have two in my head." he tapped a finger on his temple, and realized he wasn't saying it right.

"I ain't like a lycanthrope though. Seperate. Ain't really anythin human in here. 'S just us animals." he smirked, letting his head come back up as he spread his hands out along the couch, as if he were doing the typical sneaky fingers thing in a movie theatre, only there were no people there for him to wrap his arms around, so he just pulled a knee up, foot flat on the floor as he crossed his legs at the knees. He moved like he was a cat, slow and graceful movements where there should have been something clumsy in it. Anita shook her head.

"Okay, okay...so, you're not a lycanthrope...are you a panwere?" There, she said it. Looks from around the room said they had been thinking it too, and they weren't surprised that Anita had been the one to ask it. Michael narrowed his eyes a moment, a look of thick thinking on him. He licked at the corner of his mouth, then pulled it in to bite thoughtfully on it, looking off to the side and away, but like he was seeing things in his head, rather than the actual room around him. "No...no..never heard of that. I don't know how to explain it...I'm just..Magic." he shrugged, switching his legs and crossing them again, slipping down so his shoulders pressed against the front of the couch instead of his back. He wasn't really aware that the skirt was riding up, and his legs crossed as they were made it look like he wasn't wearing anything beyond the boots, underneath the skirt.

He licked out over his bottom lip, moving his eyes back to Anita, pausing a moment as they caught on Jean-Claude. Something about that man's voice made him want to throw down and strip his clothes off, go dancing naked through the room. He wondered how good it got, and it was in his eyes for a moment before he moved on to the black haired woman. "Didn' catch it, anyways. I guess the best way ta say it is..it was always inside a me, from birth really. Just turned active when I was eight. I can get more stuff, but right now it's just panther an wolf." he looked around the room a minute, confused eyes, thinking eyes, empty eyes in the case of the black haired master vampire. Michael shrugged, turning his eyes away in a sulky teenager gesture, trying to relive the feeling of heat on his skin, as if it hurt to have everyone staring at him.

"wait wait wait..hold on.." Anita waved a hand, then pressed it to her forehead as if she were thinking hard enough that it was hurting her head. "okay..so..you're not a lycanthrope...so..Like the swans?" She turned to Jean-Claude, as if he could answer her question. He gave that gallic shrug that meant everything, and nothing. Great, he didn't know.

The swans were a group of shape shifters who weren't made, they were born. Every so often a king would be born, and he had honest to god feathers on him instead of hair. It was soft, and unnerving at the same time. Like sitting in a chair that's comfortable and familiar, only to realize the seat is upside down. Jean-Claude nodded his head, raising a hand to touch fingers at his chin in a gesture that was both empty of intent, and held a dark look, as if he were thinking things that were not for company. It made michael shiver and look away. The vampire laughed and the sound slid down his body like a smooth and firm hand, touching across his skin in all the right places. His thick and careless exterior melted under that touch, and a blush jumped across his cheeks again, making him drop his eyes and look away. "S-s-stop it, kay..?" he didn't sound much like he wanted him to, but there was that lilt, as if he were being fondled infront of people whom he would rather weren't there.

"Master, he's only fourteen today." Yurick spoke up from his place on the couch, and Michael scooted up, pulling himself up onto the couch. He wanted to pull his knees up too, but his mother was there in the back of his head reminding him that you don't put shoes on the furniture. He gave a hesitant glance at either of the two boys beside him, and he couldn't explain it. He didn't know them very well at all, but he wanted comfort, and they were the best he had. He felt that need to be petted, and held, and Nethaniel caught the glance, moving a hand to run fingers over Michael's arm. A light touch, a simple touch, but it made him relax a little. Yurick raised an eyebrow, and he moved in, scooting closer to hug the asian shape shifter.

"Only fourteen..?" Jean-Claude's voice was a little surprised, and he gave that wide slightly amused look, hands crossing over his chest. He reigned in his voice, as a thought passed over him. The boy was dressed like he would fall into the arms of any willing person, but the way he held himself, the complete lack of a knowing look as he had so innocently flashed his bare ass to the room, the blush on his cheeks. He was a virgin. Jean-Claude and Anita shared a look, and she shook her head. She didn't want to have him down here, not with so many people who would probably jump at the chance to make the boy react. The Circus of The Damned was not a place for virgins and children. No, it was hardly a place for full grown adults.

Anita walked forward, going to crouch in front of the boy. He didn't look so embarrassed now, and her tone took on a lilt that one would use on a child, as if they weren't quite old enough for adult conversation, and she needed to speak clear enough that he would understand. "Well..you're sorry, right?" she gave a small smile, resisting the urge to go all out and pat him on the hand. What surprised her was the sudden look of utter disdain in the boy. He looked at her as if she had asked him if he wanted to finger paint.

"I'm fourteen, not four. Yeah, I'm sorry. An I didn't know that would happen, or I prolly would have had somethin ta eat before we came. An please, don't take me wrong, you're nice an all, but I havn't been a child for a looong time now." his eyes were ever so slightly jaded. Not as jaded as she'd seen in Nethaniel when she had found him, or any number of others she could have counted off, but it was a look she hadn't really expected in someone so young. Wasn't there a rule that said 'you must be this tall' to have that look in your eyes? She was finding them hurt, younger and younger. She sighed, standing up, putting hands on her hips. "Alright, you don't want to be treated like a child. I can accept that. But you're still only fourteen. What do you expect?" she gave him irritated eyes. She was kind when she wanted, but the boy obviously wasn't feeling very receptive. She could do hard if he wanted it.

Jean-Claude moved forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Ma petite, perhaps he merely means you needn't try to spare his feelings. Boys do not appreciate being babied." he gave a smile, but it looked genuine. Michael nodded his head, chewing at the corner of his lip, looking as though if he did it long enough he would end up pulling bits off. Yurick moved forward, using his thumb to pull down on the boy's chin, making him let go of the bit of flesh, and it made the Asian shape shifter blush, hunching his shoulders as if he had been caught doing something more intimate.

"S-sorry...didn't mean ta be a little bastard. Juss not used ta people care'n when I don't know 'em." he shook his head. He always ended up spilling words like a river when he was nervous. As if the jittery feeling fueled the movement of his jaws and lungs. He leaned into Yurick, then sat up again because it took him away from that warm scent of leopard behind him. He chewed at the corner of his lip again, making Yurick roll his eyes and pull at Michael's bottom lip, dragging it out from between his teeth. "You keep doing that, and I'll just keep it." he had that thick unplacable accent again, and Michael's face went soft, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He really didn't think he would mind that, and it showed in his eyes, making Yurick raise his eyebrows.

"A fourteen year old gay Asian masochistic shape shifter. Bet nobody can say that four times fast." Yurick's eyes were thick with humor as Michael's face fell, blush spreading across his face again, thick as jam. He wanted to curl up suddenly, and he leaned back into Nethaniel, as if he would melt into the other boy and disappear. He suddenly froze, if froze was the proper term for sudden lack of thought, and utter relaxation of the limbs. It was painfully obvious that he had a pang of embarrassment surged through him like hot water. He felt that pulse of lust in him, with Yurick's fingers pinched on his lip. He wanted to pull on it, and he wanted to run away. That tearing between the two urges making his stomach flop, and he felt his heart in his throat.

"Fourteen, but hardly a child." Jean-Claude's voice was still normal, but there was amusement in his tone. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes shiny with humor as he looked down on the group on the couch. Nethaniel had gone still, as if he weren't sure what he was supposed to be doing, Michael's back pressed against him, the asian boy utterly still as Yurick gave him dark eyes.

"Oh, you are so not going to do this now. Not with a child." Anita's annoyed tone came as she strode back to them across the carpet, hand moving to go to Michael's arm. "Come on, you're going home." But he turned, his lip pulling painfully out of Yurick's grasp, and it only fueled the snarl in his throat. It was low, and neutral, his eyes slipping to that white-blue of wolf, as if she had threatened to take something from him, rather than her threatening to take him away. She paused, hand still on him, but not gripping. With a look of severe irritation on her face she pulled her hand back, slowly as if he were truly an animal that she had realized would bite her in mere moments. "Okay, okay. Not touching. But you have to go. Won't your parents-" michael laughed, loud and thick, a hateful sound that didn't fit his face.

"Naw, they don't care. They never care." all at once the laughter stopped, and he gave her those empty neutral eyes. He looked suddenly as if she had come around a tree in winter and spotted a wolf, that calm waiting that said what came next was her choice, and one of the options she wouldn't much like. Suddenly michael was air born, Yurick scooping him up off the couch. "Come on then. You don't want to go home, your parents as far as Ezzy tells me pretend you don't exists, and the conversation here seems to lead to unpleasantness." without permission he went to leave, and michael threw arms around his shoulders. As they passed Jason and a few of the other people in the room, Michael cast those blue eyes over them, more like he was just looking.

"And just where are you going, Yurick..?" Jean-Claude's cool voice floated through the room, and the vampire stopped a moment. "It's his birthday, and he hasn't had a great deal of fun. I'm going to take him and talk to him, as I was meant to when I was invited. I won't do anything immoral, if that is your concern." the brown haired vampire turned on his heel to move through a space in the cloth hanging around the walls, pushing down a corridor. It looked very much like he had gone from a well furnished house into a dungeon, or dark dark castle. Michael smelled old earth, and wet stone. It wasn't an entirely unfriendly smell, but it was certainly different.

Adding to himself with a murmur as they moved down the corridor and away from the sounds of suddenly speaking people Yurick said "Because doing anything he doesn't want me to would be wrong." he grinned, and michael raised eyebrows at him, that blush that had been fading now spreading across his cheeks again. He pressed his face into the brown haired vampire's shirt, clutching at him. His head was suddenly filled with ideas, things he wanted to do, and he wasn't sure where they were all coming from. He hadn't so much as read a naughty magazine before. Why was he suddenly thinking about pressing his lips against..No. He had to think cleaner thoughts. He had to concentrate on something else.

Yurick pushed open a door and went inside. The room wasn't very large, probably a little smaller than Michael's room back home, but it was decorated in a way that made it look much larger. A full length mirror along one wall, a bed dressed over in dark sheets and covers. Well, the covers were spilled along the floor, and somehow it made michael more comfortable. Posters hung on the walls from bands he had never even heard of, and shelves were filled with books. Michael didn't often admit it anymore, but he still loved so dearly to read. He had started letting his grades slip, but he still kept at them. Slowly he was losing that will to try and gain his mother back by getting into a good college. He had always thought maybe if he tried hard enough, she would accept him again, start being kinder.

Michael was brought back out of his thoughts as he was plopped down on the bed. Well, more as if hands were suddenly not supporting him anymore, and he bounced with a small girlish sound of surprise, eyes going wide as the bed tilted, and he rolled a little to his side as Yurick moved up over it. He found himself looking up at those caramel eyes, and there was something in them that he couldn't describe, and it was somehow exciting. That push of want, need, surged through him again and his breath caught in his throat. Yurick grinned, moving to put elbows on the bed, leaning his chin down on them. "Now, why ever do you look like a sheep who wants the wolf to eat it..?" the vampire grinned, pushing himself to move into Michael, hands going down on the bed as he moved, so slow.

Michael felt stunned, as if he couldn't have moved if he wanted. His eyelids dropped, and he suddenly felt more nervous than he had ever had in his life. Yurick was moving into him again, and he couldn't help remembering those teeth, wondering what they felt like against his skin. His heart beat in his chest like it would jump out and go running away, and he suddenly couldn't think. There was a jerking in his stomach, and things lower as lips brushed against his, and he tried not to make a sound, not to move.

Yurick grinned. Michael was just so cute. He licked lightly over those so smooth lips, pressing more firmly against the boy as a hand went to the asian's hair, fingers slipping into the strands against the boy's skull. Like he expected, Michael opened him, but he didn't do anything else. He wondered suddenly if the boy had ever even had a kiss before, and the thought made him want to laugh with joy. This was just too delicious for words. With a painfully slow movement, he pressed into the asian boy's mouth, tongue slipping in along his and it was like he suddenly snapped out of his still and quiet state.

A moan fell from his lips and he squirmed, gasping softly as he slid his tongue along the brown haired vampire's, as if he were feeling, testing the sensation. It was hot, and wet, and he thought he wouldn't be able to breathe with it, or he would fumble, but his movements were slow, calm, and michael followed them, eyes slipping closed as he pressed forward into the vampire. It was all at once the best thing he had ever felt, and somehow made him want more, made him hungry for more touches. He pressed up against the brown haired vampire, and his hands went around the boy's waist. The hand in his hair pulled, and he cried out, as if he had done something more involved, something greater.

Pulling back a bit to study michael's face Yurick gave his hair an experimental tug, and when the boy pulled his bottom lip into his mouth as if he had touched him much more private areas, he grinned wide. "Like that, huh?" michael nodded, each movement pulling at his hair, but he frowned in confusion as the hand at his hair moved. He blinked breathless, his eyes already glazed over with feeling as he gave Yurick those husky blue eyes. "what..? Why..?" he didn't understand why he had stopped, but that hand came back again, so fast as it wrapped around the tie in his hair, tearing it out.

He felt strands being plucked from his head with the harsh movement, and it sent chills down his body, making him moan and writhe, pain like a hot press against his skull, suddenly panting. Yurick dropped the hair tie, looking down at the squirming boy. "Like that too, huh?" he couldn't help the amused tone in his voice. Michael swallowed several times, licking over his lips before he could speak finally. A hot pulse behind that short and somehow tight skirt made him blush thick again.

"More." Michael breathed, a look of heavy need and expectation in his eyes, wrapped all up in that thick embarrassment.


	8. Chapter 8 Take Me

Yurick had pulled michael up, made him more securely placed on the bed. They were both nearly naked, Michael's hair loose around his head like a black halo, his clothing strewn around the room.Yurick still had his red silky boxers on, and michael still had that white leather skirt, those barely there black underwear. Michael had a constant blush on his face that made him look pale, and so much younger than he was. But the look in his eyes wasn't young, and there was no doubt inYurick as to what the Asian boy wanted. He trailed fingers up Michael's leg, fingernails drawing red lines over his pale faded lemon cream colored skin. In the black clothing, with his black hair, he simply looked white. But without the black over his skin, only that so small white skirt there was no doubting the color. It madeyurick want to lick him, taste him, see if he was as sweet as that coloring promised.

Michael squirmed under that touch of nails, a soft cry from his lips as he clutched at the bed covers. He hadn't been in a situation where the pain was all for his pleasure, his enjoyment, and it made his stomach flop, but somehow it didn't bother him. The whole concept, the idea thatYurick wasn't hurting him to be mean made him smile, want to cry out like they were doing things much more involved. He gasped as Yurick pressed fingernails into the meat of his thigh, leaning over him.

Michael watched those caramel brown eyes drift down toward him, licking out over his lips, trying to swallow past his beating heart. It felt like he was going to explode, and melt into the bed. He wanted to cover himself up, and his hands kept wandering up as if he would wrap them around his bare chest, hide himself.Yurick grinned, and lightly slapped at the boy's hands just as he had in the car, giving him a look as though he were doing something silly. Michael blushed, a sheepish look on his face as he chewed at the corner of his lip. He took a deep breath, a steadying breath. Why couldn't he just relax? This was the most amazing thing on the whole planet. It made him want to jump up and sing, and he couldn't help the small apologetic smile on his face.

Yurick laughed, a soft and somehow deep masculine sound, as if he were watching devious things in his head. Michael's eyes went a little wide, and he squirmed in place, licking out over his bottom lip again. He hadn't been able to say anything since that one request for more, and he felt like he was going to simply die from the force and push of that thick embarrassment in him. He wanted to say so many things, ask questions, make soft demands, but somehow he couldn't get even the smallestsyllable out. Yurick pressed a hand up and over michael's chest, leaning down to whisper above his lips. "I know this is your first time...so I don't think I'll be as mean..but you are just so damned cute.." he grinned asmichael squeaked, clenching his eyes closed as if someone had told him he had a most attractive ass. He gasped softly as Yurick's mouth brushed against his, and for a moment he opened his lips, parted to let that seeking tongue inside, but the brown haired vampire moved, sliding those silky smooth mounds over his jaw and down to his ear.

A quick wetness and then a press of teeth and michael writhed, a hot flash of pleasure surging down his neck and through his body, making him shiver with it. Hands clutched at the bed sheet and he panted, small helpless pleasure noises sounding in the air as he felt teeth scrape over that small bit of skin. It didn't exactly hurt, and he wasn't quite sure what it was about teeth on his earlobe, but it sent those pleasured chills down his back and made his stomach churn, a flash of soft warm lightning through him as if he were filled with pleasurable electricity. Michael curled his toes, a small whimper in his throat makingYurick pull away a moment, look down at him. Was he going too far? He had to keep reminding himself that the boy hadn't even had a kiss yet.

Michael's eyes showed no hint of wanting to stop, in fact he looked confused as to why the vampire had stopped. yurick couldn't help but smirk down at him. "Your first everything, as far as Elizabeth has told me..Or have you been hiding things from our lovely black haired friend..?" his tone was light, teasing. Michael's eyes went a little wide, the blush on his face thickening to the point thatYurick thought blood would start leaking out his cheeks. It made him want to pull the asian boy up and snuggle with him, carry him around and show him to people as if he were some precious and terribly cute plush animal. "Ooh you are too cute.." he whispered, bringing himself down to kiss over Michael's neck, the boy shivering under him.

Michael had so many things pop into his head to say, but he simply couldn't manage. Somehow it was as if his body had forgotten how to speak. He swallowed, a hot press of lips against his neck and he wanted it. Wanted to feel those hard tips in his skin more than he had wanted anything in his life. He knew it would hurt, probably as much as shoving nails into you, but somehow the thought just made him want to moan and beg.Yurick pressed lips over that big pulse in his neck. He wasn't hungry, he had fed earlier that night, and he had fed well. But he could taste that so sweet skin, smell the blood flowing so hard and eager just under the surface. He wanted to press fangs in and draw out that thick and excited liquid. He wondered what Michael would taste like under the surface.

He pulled back, giving the boy those dark eyes, that look that said exactly what he was thinking, and knew what it would do to theasian shape shifter. Michael gave him back hungry and needy eyes, as if the offer were something more, something that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with pleasure. Jean-Claude's smooth voice floated throughYurick's mind as the brown haired vampire moved a hand up to michael's hair, tangling his fingers in those silken black locks. "Do not bite him, Yurick. He is like our Nethaniel. His dear female friend says he has no true stopping point." Michael heard nothing, eyes fluttering shut as Yurick pulled lightly as his hair, Yurick's eyes going a little wide. He thought, "How..?" and that smooth voice came again, a hint of laughter. "Knowing you? I am not one to let someone such as you simply carry off so sweet a boy without knowing whether or not I shall have to rescue him." Jean-Claude knew the sorts of play thatYurick enjoyed, and hadn't relished the thought of allowing him to spoil so innocent a child.

Yurick smiled a little to himself, leaning down to brush lips over Michael's forehead. Again he thought to that disembodied voice, "I will not hurt him. Now do please, go away." he smirked, and laughter floated through his head. "Very well, but do not think I will allow you to go unpunished for your so polite demand." and thatpresence in his head was gone. Yurick found himself looking down at michael , the boy's eyes curious, thoughtful. "Ya went away.." he whispered, voice thick with the pleasure that had been reigning through his body.Yurick had gone still above him, hand still tight in his hair, but he had stared off into space. A moment passed and the boy had started wondering if maybe the vampire wasn't interested anymore.

Yurick smiled, passing a hand over Michael's cheek, and the boy felt like he was about to be told that they were done. That it was time for him to go home. Michael's eyes were suddenly filled with that thickdisappointment, and Yurick actually raised eyebrows at him. "what? What's wrong?" he knew it. He had gone too fast. Yurick sat up between michael's legs, sitting back on his heels, and the asian boy wrapped his arms around himself, looking down and away. "Nothing..n-nothing, I'll j-just g-g-go." He moved, pulling his legs up so he could roll to the edge of the bed, sliding off onto his bare feet. He started looking around for his clothes, arms around himself with his shoulders hunched. If he had a tail in that moment, it would have been firmly tucked in against his bottom. He had known something was going to happen, he had known that he wasn't going to get what he wanted. Life was just like that.

He took a step away from the bed and a hand caught the back of his skirt, stopping him short. He hunched his shoulders more, as if he would curl up upon himself, and there was a thick rustling, feet on the floor, and then arms were around him. "I'm sorry Michael, I'm sorry. I was too fast for you. I should have waited. Been patient. Please don't feel you have to go. We can talk, or just sit..please don't go." he sounded desperate, andmichael stood up, a curious and confused look on his face. He turned in the boy's arms, and Yurick let go a moment to let him do it, then tightened around him again. "I thought y-y-ya wanted m-me t-ta l-l-leave..I thought..I d-d-dunno w-what I th-th-thought. But y-ya w-went away f-for a m-m-moment, an j-just..the l-l-look in your eyes.." he bit on the corner of his bottom lip.

Yurick gave him wide surprised eyes. "Of course not! I just can't put fang in you." he grinned, and those pointed tips made Michael shiver, but then the words caught him and he tilted his head to the side in that so feline gesture. "W-why n-not..?" he sounded asdisappointed as he looked, and Yurick moved, scooping him up and against himself with hands under the boy's ass, just like before in the club. He ran fingers over the bare skin of him, trailing and tickling fingernails. If that's allmichael was worried about, then he had no doubt in his mind that the boy wouldn't have a problem with his continuing. Michael squirmed,andyurick brushed lips over the asian boy's. "I think you would love to have my fangs in your neck. Have me feed on you with or without my hands on other parts of your body." he breathed the words, andmichael whimpered, a soft and quick sound as if he had had parts of himself prodded, and it hadn't felt entirely uncomfortable.

"And though I would love that...I think you would keep begging me for more, have me drink you down until there was nothing left. We wouldn't want you to die before you've had your first bit of fun, now would we..?" his voice was purring with that dark knowledge, andmichael let his head fall forward, laying against Yurick's shoulder. He felt like he should be running away, hiding his face in his hands, but somehow the embarrassment only fueled that thick sense of need in the center of his being. His skin ached to be touched, and there was that thick and throbbing feeling between his legs. The underwear felt way too tight around him, and he wanted to simply rip it off, squirming as if he were terribly uncomfortable against the brown haired vampire.

Yurick moved, pressing lips to the hollow of michael's throat, kissing out across his collar bone. He couldn't go for the boy's neck, couldn't drink him, but he could taste him. The thought made him smirk. He was treading on so many fine lines here that he couldn't help but smile. He was always pushing his limits. Michael squirmed, moaning softly asYurick carried him back to the bed as before, crawling along the surface with michael hanging from him like an over excited monkey, his head moving back, arching as he was pressed into the bed. Yurick smiled down at him, that dark and lusty promise filled smile. Hands traced the edges of michael's ribs, nails tickling along the skin before they dug in, sending the boy hissing in through his teeth, arching his back with a look of pain on his face, top lip pulled back, eyebrows knitting together, eyes clenched shut tight.

Yurick leaned over him, whispering above his skin. "Did that hurt, pretty thing...?" his voice was breathy, thick and deep. He really did love this sort of thing. Michael nodded, his face going slack with pleasure asYurick moved his hands. Michael had that dreamy glazed look on his face, and the vampire had hardly done anything yet. It made him want to laugh, wriggle in a happy fashion. He bent, pressing his mouth overmichael's chest, leaving behind bloodied kisses, angry hickeys . He didn't draw the flesh far into his mouth, but years of practice made it so he could press the flat of his teeth against the skin, draw it in, bite on it a bit and still only just pierce the skin. Michael moaned, hands going above his head to clench at the sheets, tugging at them.

Yurick was surprised at how easily michael bent into the pleasure, how he slipped head first into those feelings without question, without resistance. It was as if he had been through the throes of this specific passion before, and the brown haired vampire wondered just how often the boy had been hurt growing up. Whether whoever had done it knew exactly what they had been doing to him. People tended to be ignorant of such things, and he wondered if it had pained the boy, if that was why he had automatically thought that he would have to go, leaveunfulfilled . There was a pool of sorrow at the center of him for that thought, but he pushed it away, squashed it down and locked it up. This wasn't a time for being sad, or mourning. This was a happy thing.

Michael couldn't believe how good it felt, and Yurick had told him he wouldn't have to go away. There was a growing need, a pain and ache between his legs that he had grown used to, but he had that knowledge in the back of his head, that thought thatYurick had told him he wouldn't have to go, and it made him squirm, made him moan and push, his hips pressing up in a subconscious gesture. He wanted to press his body against the other boy, wanted to curl and writhe against him. He swallowed, licking out over his bottom lip as he pulled the bit of flesh into his mouth, biting down on it lightly. He wanted to beg, have the rest of his clothes off and press his nakedness against that warm and pulsing body above his.

Yurick's hands wandered down, pulling welts across michael's skin. He had no stopping point, Jean-Claude had said. It meant that Yurick could do whatever he wanted, within reason. He would save things though..keep a few things back for a later time. He wouldn't want to overwhelm the boy, who seemed so sensitive for a masochist. In his experience, people who liked pain didn't feel it so terribly acutely. He would have to be careful not to make him scream too loudly, or there would be people in to come and rescue the boy. The thought made him smirk a bit, thinking of the other inhabitants of the circus rushing in to stop him, finding them in the middle of some heavy and lusty act.

Michael moved, reaching down to brush hands through Yurick's hair, combing along that so silky pile of spun brown sugar. "Please yurick...p-please.." his voice was breathy, and he bit down on his lip again, writhing under more pained touches. Hands gripped at his hips, fingernails digging in enough to make blood trickle from smallhalf moon punctures. Michael writhed, gasping then letting the breath out in a low moan, a thick purr in his throat. "Please what..?" yurick teased, moving to lick over Michael's stomach, stopping a moment to suck at his skin, making a thick and purple hickey. The boy was so dotted over in hickeys, little kiss shaped bruises, welts and scratches, dots of blood over that smooth perfection of him.

Michael shook his head, moving a hand up to press a fist against his lips, as if it would be too terrible to say what he wanted, those thoughts in his head choking him up and making him throb. He couldn't help the writhing that followed, the feeling between his legs jumping and making him want to simply jump up and bite the vampire, show him what he wanted. But still he struggled with it, pressing himself back into the bed as if he woulddisappear.

Yurick shrugged, sitting back on his heels again, but there was that heavy look in his eyes. no, he wasn't going to shove the boy away, or leave him there alone, but he wasn't going to do anything else unless he said it. "Please..What?" he ran hands up along his own thighs, fingertips graceful asmichael's eyes followed, lingering when they passed over the front of Yurick's red boxers, an obvious bulge making him gulp slightly, blush pushing into his cheeks at full force, making him dizzy for a moment as a thought shot through him. He wanted to see whatYurick looked like underneath the boxers, wanted to touch him, feel him.

Michael bit down on his lip, then took a deep shuddering breath. "P-p-please...f-fuck m-m-me." the second the words were out, he let his hands jump up to his face, covering it as he groaned, a half frustrated half giggly sound. He wasn't sure where the giggles came into things, but somehow they fit how he was feeling. He didn't think he could have explained it to anyone, but having to say itout loud made it more tangible, as if he could have already felt it happening. He squirmed, and Yurick's hands were suddenly moving down, pulling the skirt from his hips. He squeaked, actually moving as if he would wriggle away, but a hand on his hip as fingers found the zipper at his hip kept him in place, then moved down to pull the skirt and underwear away in a single smooth motion that left him hard and cold in the air.

Michael gasped, wriggling and thrusting his hips forward at the sudden cool press of air around his nakedness. He opened his eyes, a look of pleasure and loss in his face, as if he were falling and simply couldn't tell which way was up. So strong a reaction from such a little thing.Yurick trailed fingertips over his own boxers, looking at the pale nakedness of the asian shifter. "My...will you look at that..?" his voice was deep, full of need and lust, that lilt of teasing as he looked over michael, and the boy shot hands down to cover himself up, biting down on his lip as he squeezed his eyes shut. "d-d-don't look l-l-like that..!" he sounded frantic, so terribly embarrassed.

Yurick smirked, reaching to slap at the boy's hands like he had twice before, but harder, the sound stinging through the air and making the back of michael's hands red. He let go of himself, eyes flying open as he looked over the brown haired vampire, so much paler than himself. He gulped, licking out over his lips as they had suddenly gone dry. He couldn't describe it, but he wanted that hungry pool he could see peeking out fromYurick's eyes. He was afraid, and he was excited.

Yurick pressed down on michael's shoulders forcefully, bringing the boy's attention back to him. "ssshh...just relax. It'll feel real good, I promise.." he leaned down, kissing michael gently enough, but his fangs nicked him and they both moaned softly into the kiss as it deepened with that flavor of blood, michael's hands coming up to pull Yurick in against him, pressing them together as he squirmed, unable to lay still. It was as if he would simply wriggle out of his skin, everything making him feel like he was going crazy. Each little bite stung with that press of their bodies together, and he groaned,Yurick's hands tightening, pressing him harder into the bed as he cried out, hips pressing up and over the front of the brown haired vampire, sliding along those silk boxers. The feel was amazing, and he couldn't help the desperate and hungry movements that stole over him.

Yurick broke away from the kiss first, worried he would end up actually feeding at michael's lip. He marveled at how quickly the wound in his lip began sealing up. He had to keep reminding himself that though michael was a shape shifter, he wasn't a lycanthrope, and the wounds would probably react differently. But it stopped there. The wound stopped bleeding, but remained. All of them did. He pressed his lower body into Michael,grinning at him lightly through his so thin boxers. "Are you doing this, pretty thing..?" he cooed, licking out along a dribble of blood that went down Michael's chin. He tasted like spices, something heady and delicious. He wanted to have more, but he already felt the thick push of intoxication. Magical blood, like a thick and heady wine, dripping down throats. The stronger the being, the greater the pull.

Michael nodded, licking out over his lip, and the pain struck him. "d-don't want it ta g-go away.." he panted, feeling all those little hurts over him as if he had poked them all suddenly, and it made him cry out, and writhe.Yurick grinned, moving to place hands over Michael's sides as he kissed low on the boy's belly, that surprisingly long length poking at the brown haired vampire's chest, and sliding along it.yurick moved, knowing just what it would do to the boy as he did so, trailing a line of wet warmth over his skin until he was right there, that fleshy thick pulse of need and ache touching over the silken skin of his lips as he moved over it, kissing and trailing his tongue as if he had all of eternity to complete the act.

Michael cried out, hands going up to cover his face again as he groaned into them. He felt so embarrassed, and excited, he was sure he would find blood dribbling from his nose in the pressure of his head. He moved his hands, eyes wide as he looked down atYurick , the vampire's face a look of intense lusting hunger as he slipped that bit of flesh into his mouth, being careful not to catch his fangs on him. He worked the flesh into his mouth with smooth and deft movements of his tongue, applying the tip like a seeking finger, rubbing over and over underneath. Michael threw his head back,biting at his tongue to keep from moaning too loudly, his hands suddenly shooting out, scrambling for something to grab onto. He dug hands into the covers, into the sheets under his head and buried them, as if he were trying to press his pleasure into the furniture, the bedsheets.

Yurick pulled that flesh slowly in and out, and the eager pushing of Michael's hips was enough to drive him faster, still being so terribly careful of those pointed fangs. He wasn't sure theasian boy would appreciate wounds there, and he wasn't too eager to find out. He did so enjoy giving pain to those who wanted it, but there was nothing in him that made him want to cause great wounds, and in his books a wound there was big enough to make him want to hold back. Michael panted, swallowing moans as he gasped and squirmed, hips pressing and curling as he fought to lay still, but he couldn't. There was a growing heaviness in him, a feeling of something tight in his lower belly, and he squeaked, panting and breathless.

"Th-there's...s-s-something..uuhhnnn..!" he gasped, hands digging into the bed, body bucking. Yurick pulled away suddenly, leaving him breathless with a touch of blush in his cheeks, eyes shiny as he licked at his lips. Michael was suddenly cold and so unbearably hard in the air, it made him shiver and gasp as he looked up, eyes heavy and thick with that pleasure he felt, a touch of confusion. "W-why..?" his voice sounded strained, small.

Yurick grinned, moving hands down to his boxers to remove them, suddenly bare in the dim light of the room. Michael couldn't help staring. He was like an alabaster statue, all white and cream, tucked up against his own belly. Faintly it registered inmichael's mind that the boy was circumcised , and he licked his lips, suddenly nervous again. He tore his eyes away from the hard sight of him and up to his face, fear, and want clear in his features. He couldn't help squirming, the urge to run away thick in him asYurick lowered himself.

"You are too cute, Mikey...and you smell so thick of fear..it's almost too much." he smirked, nipping along Michael's ear as a hand trailed overmichael's thigh, tracing faint welts. He dug nails suddenly into the meat of the boy's ass, and he yelped for him, arching his back with a hiss of breath.Yurick grinned, bringing a finger to his lips and wetting it, drawing it out wet and gleaming in the faint light, letting michael see it as he gave him dark eyes. Michael knew exactly what he was doing, and he licked out over his suddenly dry lips, watching the finger as if it were some precious dessert, something he wanted to take and savor.Yurick leaned into him as he brought his hand down, pressing the wetted digit against that so tight space, moving and tickling over it a moment.

"Ever had anything here, pretty thing..?" he cooed, kissing at Michael's chest as he kept eyes locked on the boy. He had wanted to go slow, be kind as he could as this was michael's first time, but the noises he made, the way he moved made him forget himself. He had very nearly crawled up on the boy and simply pushed into him, let him feel that hard hot rush of pain, then eased into him. But he thought that was a bit far for the first time. The question was important, and he let intense eyes stare into overwhelmed ones asmichael whimpered, shaking his head. "..never.." he panted, letting his head go back as that digit pressed up and into him, a high thready moan in his throat at the intrusion.

It was uncomfortable and odd at first, but that slender and skilled finger searched and pressed into him, pushing past that natural resistance until he found that so sweet spot inside the boy, pressing delicately over it, gently prodding it asmichael gasped, throwing his arms up above his head to grab at the headboard, the wood moving on it's hinges as he pulled at it. "Aahhh ...Gods!" Michael tried to relax as that searching finger was suddenly joined by another, moving to spread him loosen the muscles. "So sensitive. Should I just finish you like this, then?"Yurick gave his hand a hard shove, succeeding in making michael cry out loudly, a high and desperate sound, as if it had been too much suddenly.

"N-no...no..! Please..I w-want m-m-more" Yurick was genuinely impressed with how the boy seemed so eager. In his experience, most people who were this embarrassed about things weren't usually into asking for more than they were getting. It made him smile. He was just so damned cute and yet so eager, so seemingly unsatisfied with the little touches that sent him into such writhing fits.

"Alright then." he smirked, taking his hand away. He waited a moment for the boy to get that confused look, for him to be limp and unsuspecting before he grabbed at him, turned him onto his stomach and propped his knees up. Michael instinctively went to all fours, then he bit down on his bottom lip, casting unsure eyes back at Yurick. He felt fingernails trail up the backs of his thighs, hands moving over his ass and to his hips as the brown haired vampire pressed around him, curving his hips as he pressed long and hard against the back of him. Michael called out softly, just that one touch making him shiver, making him throb hard and slightly painful. He moved, wriggling his hips back against that hard smooth push, the silken pressure against his skin making him want to simply reach back and take it for himelf, but he couldn't. He dug fingers into the headboard again, pulling himself up against it as Yurick moved forward, only too eager to press him against the wall.

"Are you ready...?" Yurick whispered in his ear, trailing arms around him to stroke over the hard length of him, fingers showing years of practice, years of learning how to use his hands, his body to get just what he wanted. Michael arched at that touch, gasping softly through clenched teeth. He gripped the headboard so hard his knuckles turned white, and he groaned, pressing back and into that waiting stiffness. "Y-yes..!" it was a drawn out whisper of a word, and he wriggled, seeking that hard press into him.

With a look of absolute dark hunger Yurick lifted michael a bit, pressing him down onto himself, entering that slick and waiting void, slipping slowly in. Michael was tighter than Yurick would have thought, and he had to fight for it inch for inch, slowly pressing up into the writhing boy. Michael hunched his shoulders, stiffening andYurick had to stop, pressing hands around Michael's chest, holding him up and off him with one hand, stroking his hair with the other. "Sshh...it's alright. Here, just relax...It's harder if you're tense. We'll go slow, okay..?" Michael nodded, taking a deep breath. He knew if they went too fast it would really hurt, but part of him really wanted to try anyways.He shuddered asYurick started pushing slowly up again, hands on Michael's hips to keep him from moving too hard.

michael leaned forward, gripping the headboard to help focus himself. He'd never felt anything like this, and it was hard to remember to be calm, to relax.Yurick pulled Michael down against himself until there was no more room left for him, sitting as he kissed over Michael's shoulder. "There, see..? Let's just sit here a minute, alright?" his tone was soft, cooing. He wrapped arms aroundMichael's waist, hand going to the asian shifter's length to stroke him, movements slow and lingering. After all, this wasn't where he wanted to end things, so he would just help him relax.

Michael gasped, arching his back against Yurick's chest, head going to the vampire's shoulder. "T-too t-t-too big...!" he gasped out, a shudder running down his spine from the sensation. Every thing he did, every little movement, every tiny shift and another pleasured wave spread out through him. He felt like the other boy was filling him up, so incredibly huge. How was anything supposed to fit like that? He felt like he would split open. He could feel him pressing against his stomach; Well, he thought he could.

"Sshhh...here..I said I'd go slow, but I promise, you'll like it." Yurick whispered in Michael's ear, hand stroking over the black haired boy's length, thick tight caresses that made him whimper low in his throat, wriggling. At first, the movements he made shot a flash of pleasure low in his belly, a tight pain, a gripping and thrust too much for him. But slowly, so slowly he got used to it, wasn't so tight anymore. He started his own rhythm whileYurick sat, patiently stroking at him, biting back his own cries, resisting that frantic push in his hips to bury himself over and over in the smaller boy.

Michael slapped both hands up on the wall, his shoulders hunched around his ears as he moved. There was a steady rhythm in him, and he wasn't thinking anymore. He moved up, pressing that hard thickness inside himself over and over again, his hips curling and revolving, pressing into that slow tight caress against him, looking down through his loose hair, face flushed and slack with need. He felt that hard thick weight pressing into him, and small helpless whimpers pulled from his throat. He felt like he would go mad from the sensation.

Yurick smiled to himself, face losing that thick calm he had before, licking out along Michael's shoulder as he started moving with the boy, matching his pace push for push, their bodies writhing together in a wave of flesh and sweat.Yurick thought he had behaved himself quite well, but michael was relaxed enough inside now, and he wanted to have a bit of his own fun. Yurick was a very giving lover, but there was a point where he wanted to take some pleasure for himself. He wasn't that old, and didn't have an endless amount of patience.

Michael cried out as Yurick started thrusting up into him, that hard push that felt like he was hitting the underside of the black haired boy's stomach. He dug fingers into the wood and it creaked, his knuckles hitting the wall over and over, but he didn't notice in the heat of that thick pulsing push. His legs were getting weak, and he felt like he would melt away.Yurick's hand at his chest pulled him back away from the wall, his hands letting go of the bit of wood. His knuckles were raw, scraped from dragging over and over the wall. It hadn't been for very long, but they were stronger than normal human, and the wall was a stationary object. His hands fell back, going behind his head to circle aroundYurick's neck, as if he were balancing himself. His arms bent in a way that made Yurick raise his eyebrows a moment, but he steeled himself, pressing up and into Michael as he dug fingernails into the boy's chest, blood dripping down over him.

Michael cried out, a half moan half sob in his throat at the rage of sensation through his body. He felt that waiting crash, like the still before a tidal wave comes crashing down over you. It pressed his muscles close, and though he couldn't get the words out,Yurick was waiting for that slow tightening, the sudden quiet in the boy as he moved, suddenly moving harsher, rougher, pressing up and up into him. He tightened his hand, fingers dancing up and over the tip ofMichael's length. The press, the rough pushing against him, the fingernails in his skin as they scratched, it was all too much for him.

Michael fell up and over that shining edge of orgasm with a loud scream, back bowing as if he would curl into a circle over Yurick's shoulder, hands straining as they traveled down his back, leaving scrapes and welts. Yurick clenched his hand, holding down on that twitching length. He couldn't take it any more, roughly pushing michael down to the bed in front of him, hands gripping his hips as he pressed into him, the sound of skin meeting skin raining through the room.

All at once he felt that heavy push of release, clinging to michael as the boy writhed and pushed hungry eager hips back over and over him, that so tight space trying to draw him further in like siren song, eyes sliding nearly closed with a look of thick pleasure on his face, Yurick came and felt that hot thickness spread through his lower body, tingles dancing through him from head to toe. Michael cried out, squirming as another wave of pleasure danced through him. He arched his back, pushing up on hands and knees with his head hanging down, panting as his body twitched, jerking. "F-f-fuck...!" he curled fingers in the covers, bundling them up in his palms. He hurt all over, everything except his head and feet. He felt every stinging pain, every bruise and wound. Everything from his hips down was ahard thick ache, as if he had sat on a bowling ball.

Yurick stilled a moment before he pulled away, rolling lightly off the boy before laying out on his back, panting as a hand went up to press his palm over his heart. "Such a hungry thing you are.." he murmured, rolling his head to the side. He watchedmichael on all fours, panting with sweat dripping down his face and off his nose. He looked like he had gotten into a fight with a man sized leech and a rather angry kitten. The image made him laugh a little, but soon it was a full blown laugh, happy and open.

Michael turned his head to the side, a weary dreamy look on his face as he stretched catlike, tail end up in the air as he pressed his chest to the bed, hands reaching and stretching. He groaned low in his throat, a purr sounding as he straightened back up, stalking across the bed as graceful as a feral cat, all rolling muscle and liquid motion.Yurick watched him move with a weary expression of fascination on his face. "You're not tired..?" he sounded winded, and knew it was just the sun. He could feel it pressing in against him like a weight. Michael shook his head, a gleeful look on his face as if he had eaten a pile of sugar. "Nope. Ain't felt better before. I think I couldprolly jump up an lift a bus. ZOOM!" he slid a little, nearly falling on his face as he knelt beside Yurick, leaning down to lick against his neck. "well, okay. Maybe not a bus. But I feel fuckin awesome."

Yurick smiled, his eyes pinching a little around the edges. "Me unfortunately, I have to sleep now. I dare say you won't enjoy spending the day with me here...I will be dead to the world." he gave an apologetic look, frowning a little as he settled himself under the covers. They were filthy enough now, and he didn't have time enough to change them and shower. It would have to wait until nightfall.Yurick was in no way one of the eldest of the vampires, and he couldn't even have a facade of life during the daylight hours. He would die, and wake again when the sun set.

"I have to go..?" Michael's face suddenly fell into sad lines. He wanted to stay. Yurick shook his head, smiling a little as he ran a hand over Michael's naked thigh. The boy tilted his head to the side, damp hair clinging to his neck and the side of his face. "You don't have to go..but you may want to. Nothing but a corpse when the sun comes up, I'm afraid." Michael's eyes suddenly widened with realization and he made an 'O' of understanding. He didn't think he could handle being around a corpse, not enough to sleep. "Not that I don't like ya an all..But I don't think I could handle that just now." he grinned, and leaned down to lay on his side, an arm extended over the bed, laying his head on it.

Yurick nodded, a sleepy smile on his face. "It's alright. I wouldn't want to either. You can take some of my clothes if you want, as I imagine you didn't really enjoy dressing like a woman. Elizabeth told me it was her evil plan." he grinned, running fingers through Michael's hair. It amazed him that it was so ruffled, but his fingers slipped through it like water. Not a single tangle. Michael purred, letting his eyes closed. "Will it hurt...?" he opened them again, looking intently at the brown haired vampire. Yurick nodded, a small serious look on his face. "It will." He pulled his hand back, pulling the covers around himself. A moment passed, and he took a soft shuddering breath. "It's coming.."

Michael watched, feeling as though he should look away as if Yurick needed privacy, but somehow he couldn't turn away. The vampire's eyes were locked on his until they closed, a pained look passing over his features and for a moment he stiffened, then relaxed in a soft rush. Michael wasn't sure what was happening, but it was as if all of a sudden Yurick had fallen asleep. He waited a moment, listening. He couldn't heart a heart beat, but he knew enough to know vampires only had a heart beat when they wanted to. He reached out, running fingertips over Yurick's cheek, then his upper arm. He felt normal enough, but he was already cooling more than he was before.

Michael took his hand back, chewing at his bottom lip as his eyebrows came toghether. He tried to stay, really wanted to. But he couldn't take it, rolling to toss himself from the bed as he went over to the armoir against one wall, pulling it open. Everything was so orderly he didn't want to mess it all up finding something he liked. He spotted a folded pile of boxers and grabbed the top one, a pair of tan silky things that looked like tarnished gold. Glancing back at the bed he thought they would have looked really amazing on the brown haired vampire, then tugged them on. He didn't really mind being naked around people he didn't know. Who cared what they thought?

He left the room with one last glance back, chewing at the corner of his mouth before he padded off barefooted on the stones. He kept wanting to go back, curl up in the bed and wait for Yurick to wake up. He didn't really feel like they were dating, didn't expect anything. But there was something in him, some part that wanted to be with him, talk to him. He was the only person here he knew. He shook his head as he found his way back along his own scent, the only one he could trust, as he had only been one way in the corridors. He pushed through the white curtains and into that electricity lit living room, moving on barefeet over the carpet. "Just met a guy, never had sex before, an ya fucked 'm. Yeah Mikey, you're a slut." he murmured to himself with a grin. He bounced on the balls of his feet a moment, looking around. He wasn't sure what he had to do. There was nobody to bring him home, and he was all alone.

Or he was, for a moment at least. Somewhere a door opened and he looked in that direction, hearing feet on steps. He was in a strange place, didn't know anyone, and someone was coming. He dashed behind the couch, hiding on the couchions with his head poking up over the back, hands gripping the white leather. It wasn't the best hiding place on the planet, with his black head so terribly visible against the white leather, but he would see whoever came through, and then he would have the couch in the way if it was someone he didn't like, or didn't like him.

Nethaniel was arguing with Jason about something, as they headed down the steps, bundles of fast food in their arms. "No, I'll bet he didn't. You saw how shy he was. I'll bet Yurick scared him." There was laughter, and Nethaniel stepped onto the plush carpet, a tray of drinks in one hand, and two brown fast food bags in the other hand. "And I'll bet he did. He was just too..submissive to Yurick. The devious vampire picked him up, and he didn't even protest." he turned into the room with Jason following them and at the same time they both stopped, sniffing at the air. Jason's eyes fell on Michael's head first, and he grinned. "Guess you're right, Nethaniel." He moved around, putting his own bundles onto the coffee table and the faint scent of blood caught his attention. He turned with a grin on his face, intent on teasing the boy, but his eyes fell on Michael's hips, the bloody nail marks standing out like a dot of red in a dish of yellow cream.

"Had some fun, huh?" he raised his eyebrows, moving to plop into one of the arm chairs as he dug into one of the bags, pulling out a wrapped breakfast sandwach. Nethaniel came around the couch, smiling happy and bright. He could smell that scent of sex, and the faint push of blood, but it didn't smell like enough for what was on the boy's hips. He sat in the other chair. "we brought some for you. Go ahead and pick anything. We weren't sure what you would like." he gave that bright cheerful smile, and michael turned full around, moving to his knees with a hard thunk on the carpet. He had eaten before, and a lot, but he was starving all over again.

"Shit!" Jason leaned forward, eyes wide as he stared at Michael's front, the scattered angry hickeys, the little punctures, but his eyes lingered over the wide scrapes, so angry and bloody in the middle, edges rough. Michael looked like he had been attacked more than anything else. He raised curious eyes to Jason and then looked over Nethaniel who had gone suddenly still, an odd look on his face.

"what?" 


	9. Chapter 9 Own Me

"What?" Michael raised an eyebrow, moving to grab at some of the food. He wouldn't have any coffee, it usually hurt his stomach. But the eggs and meats, he could eat them. He wriggled back on the couch, wincing a little at the sore stinging through his body. He was going to be feeling this for days...well, if he let himself. He didn't have to heal if he didn't want to, and then it would go human slow. So he let it sit. 

Jason ran a hand through his short blond hair, whistling as he sat back in his chair, casting a glance at Nethaniel. The auburn haired young man shook his head, looking down, then up again. He looked over the bites and bruises across Michael's chest as if he were wearing the sexiest thing on the planet. "Did Yurick do all that...?" his voice was slow, careful, as if he were fighting to keep from yelling.

Michael nodded happily, such a wide and open smile as he pulled his feet up to sit cross legged on the couch, munching happily at his food, quickly chewing a little and swallowing. "Yep." he didn't explain, or emphasize the statement, just said it and went on eating. Jason sat forward again, arms draping over his knees. "You..and you're alright? I mean..he didn't...Well, I mean, of course he did..but..?" he seemed to be tripping over his words, trying to find the right thing to say, without just blurting it out. Nethaniel's face went sheet white, eyes wide as he looked over the Asian boy again. The bites didn't exactly look sexy anymore.

"...Kay, seriously, you guys are way too interested." his face flushed, and he pulled a sulky look, moving to sit back, right foot planted on the couch cushion with his right arm over his knee, slouching over the couch. "He didn't do nothin wrong, I told him to." they both gave him confused looks, and Nethaniel actually moved over to sit next to the boy who raised an eyebrow at him, as if to call him weird. "Michael..That was your first time. We all heard that you were...well..a virgin. And Yurick..he can be forceful. And he doesn't take lovers." he said it as if he were trying to be as gentle as possible, trying to read Michael's disdainful expression.

"Kay, I get that, but I don't see what it has ta do with me." Michael rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. He wanted to move away from Nethaniel, and sniff at him at the same time. He took a bite of his food, holding the small bit that was left between his fingers as he chewed, trying to figure out just what the long haired shape shifter was getting at. Oh, he knew what he was now, but he hadn't last night. Not with the way he had felt. It had nothing to do with thinking, so much as touching and exploring. Nethaniel sighed, sitting up as if he were making himself ready for an explosion.

"He's not going to keep you, Michael." He flicked eyes to Jason, who had a sympathetic look on his face. They looked at each other a moment, until a subtle shaking of the couch make Nethaniel look back, ready to wrap arms around the small Asian boy. michael's head was down, his hair falling around him, curled low enough that his hair dipped and spilled across his lap, over those dark golden boxers. He had his right arm up over the back of the couch, his knee up nearly over his lowered shoulder, his other arm over his stomach. "Michael...it's alright, it's-" Nethaniel was cut off by a loud and joyous ring of laughter as the boy threw his head back, kicking his feet with it, arm over his stomach as he laughed, that wide open cheerful cry that children seem to somehow grow out of. It made him look like he should have been watching cartoons stupid enough they would turn your brain to mush.

"Uhh..." Jason raised an eyebrow, looking as if he wanted to run and get help, but he stayed right where he was. Michael threw himself to his back, small tears of humor collecting in his eyes as he rolled off the couch with a thump. Nethaniel smirked a little, trying not to laugh. He wasn't sure if the boy had been broken, or if he truly found the situation funny in some morbid sort of way. The two friends sat still, waiting as the boy's laughter died down to hissing giggles, until he finally lay gasping for air, face flushed with the humor, spread out on his back with his eyes closed.

"Are you alright...?" Jason asked, tilting to the side in his chair so he could see the boy, and michael grinned, a thick wicked thing that showed his human canines, turning his head to the side."I'm fantastic. Hurt like I got trampled by a bull, and you two are just too funny for words. Sweet, but funny." he moved, crossing his legs at the knee as he put one foot flat on the floor so his legs were raised, folding his hands over his now aching stomach.

"I'm sorry, we must be missing the joke." Nethaniel said, moving to scratch at the side of his head a moment. The reaction just didn't seem right for him. He could smell the scent of sex on the boy, and he was obviously hurt inside, making him wonder just what Yurick had done to him. Nethaniel knew people who had been raped, and had turned out liking it, or thinking it had been something special. But few ever deluded themselves into thinking they were going to be kept by that person, still liking them afterwards. Jason sighed, moving to hold a hand out to the Asian boy, who simply grinned at him, moving a hand as if to tell him no, he was comfortable.

"Well, see...you're both thinkin like I want a boyfriend. Or like I thought we were gonna date or some shit. See...it's just sex. Ain't nothin behind it. Who falls in love with someone they just met? I mean, that's freakin weird." he snickered, moving to put his hands up behind his head as the two exchanged bewildered glances, then looked back at the boy. He looked like he should have been walking into a police station, not laughing it out on the floor. "Oh come on. Ya gotta admit, from my view, this is the funniest conversation on the planet. I like him 'n all, but we ain't gonna cuddle up an whisper about each other's eyes." he grinned, eyes shiny with humor.

Jason went back to sit in his chair, and Nethaniel sat back on the couch with a whistle, pulling one leg up to put the ankle on his opposite knee, holding onto it. "I just don't get that. It was your first time, and you didn't expect anything except sex?" he shook his head. It just didn't make sense to him. Anybody who picks their first time wants it to be with someone they love, don't they? Jason wasn't all that bothered by it, but he was still a little confused. "So..you enjoyed all that? I mean..I can..WE can smell all the blood and, well..everything. You still have little beads of sweat around your hairline. And you look like you ate a ton of sugar." he motioned to the boy, who ran a hand through his hair, making a face. "Yeah..I am kinda dirty, ain't I?" he sat up, scratching at his hair furiously, making a face with one eye scrunched closed. He moved, reaching for more food.

"Well, Since you're both so terribly confused, lemmie explain." Michael smirked, settling back to let his back rest against the front of the couch, rolling his shoulders. Everything hurt, and it made him smile, a dreamy sort of smile. "See..Yeah, I was a virgin an all, but I knew a year ago I liked bein hurt. An I don't really have a pain I ever met that I didn't like. An I can tell ya this, cause I really don't care what'cha think." he tapped his head a moment, smiling between the two of them. "It makes it real easy spillin, an I like tellin stories. Well, anyways, I knew I liked pain, an I never met a guy who didn't hate me right off, an ya gotta admit, Yurick's a really pretty man. I wasn't expectin him ta keep me, I was expectin him ta fuck me. An I guess whatever Ezzy gave me helped, but..." he shrugged, taking a bite of his food. He really wasn't bothered by any of it, and he felt like he could have run a mile a minute, if he had room enough.

"So...you're kind of a...slut, huh?" Jason smirked, trying to get a rise out of the boy. The fact that none of it bothered him somehow made him feel like squirming. Michael turned husky blue eyes to him and swallowed, then grinned. "Yeah, guess so, huh?" Jason couldn't hold it in anymore, and he laughed, Nethaniel giving him a small glare. "That's not how it's supposed to be, Michael." he said, turning back to the boy. He wasn't sure why, but he felt somehow like the boy was wasting something, spending his virginity on something meaningless.

Michael sighed, moving to drape his arms over the seats of the couch cushions, fingers landing across Nethaniel's pant leg, subconsciously brushing over the jeans. "Yeah yeah, I know..I just don't see it that way. I spent a year gettin beat on by people who just wanted ta hurt me, an it felt good. Ain't really about love when the best feelin shit in the universe gets given to ya by people who want ta make ya cry an blubber." his tone had gone soft, but his face was a little angry. He'd hated how they made him feel. Like he should have been thanking them. He let his head fall back, turning to glance at the older male. "Do ya have any idea how that feels? Wantin ta tell 'em ta stop, wantin ta curl up an disappear, an the whole time wantin ta encourage 'em, tell 'em ta do it harder, or point where ya want it?" he knew in that instant, the flash of something in Nethaniel's eyes that he knew exactly what he meant. He knew in that instant that the auburn haired young man had felt that exact thing. "It ain't always about love. An I wasn't thinkin anything that had ta do with love. It was all about feelin, an feelin good."

Nethaniel pulled his knees up onto the couch, laying his cheek on the tops of his knees. "I get it now. And I guess if none of it bothers you, then it would be funny." he smiled a little, moving to brush hands though Michael's hair, and the boy purred, tilting his head for all the world like a cat in a human body, moving with that roaming spot, as if 'the perfect place' kept changing, a grin on his face as his eyes slid closed.

Nethaniel pulled his hand back, and michael turned lazy eyes to him, grinning. It was an odd expression to give someone you had just met, but he supposed the boy was allowed to be a little odd. It sounded like he had to grow up with things a lot faster than most. From zero to slut in five seconds. Alright, so it wasn't so funny. But he couldn't help grinning, letting his legs down as he stood, actually brushing his hand across his pants. Nethaniel had no problem with sweat, but it just made him feel like he'd intruded on something. He couldn't explain how he was feeling. It was as if michael had stirred some sort of personal feeling in him that he himself couldn't explain. "When you're done, you could go back and shower, I'm sure Yurick wouldn't mind you using his bathroom." He smiled, giving Michael a wide and well meaning look as the boy moved to take yet more food.

"Where do you keep it all?" Jason asked, eyes wide in mock awe. He was a bit amused, but he'd seen plenty of shape shifters eat, so it wasn't the amount that bothered him, it was the fact that the boy didn't seem like he was actually putting the food in his stomach. As if the moment it left his mouth, it happened to go somewhere else. Michael shrugged. "I feel it in my stomach, but it's like...putting candy in soda. It just eats it all up so quick, then rushes around in the rest of my body. Not that I feel that. If I eat fast enough, I even get full sometimes." he smirked, finishing his food and standing up. He didn't want to feel like he was eating up all their money, and he really hadn't done anything to earn the food. He felt rather like he should have been paying them, being as he caused so much trouble last night. "I really need ta find a way ta pay your guys' boss back for that.." he murmured, turning to make his way back the way he had come. Michael always felt a need to wash up after eating, but he'd learned a long time ago that licking at himself didn't actually do it, and he tended to smell like spit.

"So..where do you live?" Michael was dressed in his own clothes again, but his hair was down and still wet from his shower. He looked like he was finally getting tired, constantly running hands through his wet hair. He had insisted that he didn't need to dry it, that it would just dry like it always did. "Over on Lidell Boulevard? Down right next to Forest Park?" he tilted his head to the side, giving the older male a curious look, and Nethaniel smiled. "Yeah, I know where that is. Pretty nice park. Really big." he smiled, and it reached his eyes. Michael nodded. He'd gone running through the park a lot, but never as a panther, even though he itched to do it. He had wanted to many times, but he wouldn't have gotten away with it. A wolf, even a big wolf, will always look more normal than a huge cat. Most people just assumed he was a dog, and shook their heads, thinking they had merely thought he was so large. It helped that he was black, and he only went running at night. But to be free, to run so long though the trees, over grass, it felt good.

"Well, let's get you home then. Jean-Claude said he would talk to you later about paying back the money for the performance you ruined." Jason grinned, moving forward to wrap an arm around the boy's shoulder. Michael's face fell. He had wanted to pay them back, but the words sounded kind of ominous. That the vampire knew enough to leave a message about it made him wonder just what he had stuck his nose into, and how much it would hurt trying to get it back out again. "He ain't...mad, is he?" he hunched his shoulders, moving as directed as Jason lead him out of the underground, up into the empty circus. It was dead and quiet during the day, closed off until the vampires woke up, until the sun went down.

"Naw, he's not mad. But, he's a real mind for business, you know? He was probably thinking about it even when you were trying to kill people." Jason grinned, hugging the suddenly blushing boy. He was a confusing creature. Blushing one minute, sulky and defiant the next, then excited and open about everything. Jason got the feeling the boy was sort of like a multiple personality type, but he knew everything he was doing, and slipped so easily from one to the next. They made their way outside and to Jason's car, a little blue civic, and they all piled in, michael having a little trouble with the big boots. He hadn't laced them up, and had adamantly refused help until Nethaniel explained he was a stripper, and he had to help people with this sort of thing all the time. Michael had been really interested in that, and had happily proclaimed that he would do that, but they had both laughed and told him he was far from being old enough.

They were driving down the road, and Jason was behind the wheel, michael sitting in the back trying to keep his knees together, as relaxing meant he had flashed the car, and Jason laughed, glancing back in the rear view to the great terror of the other two, as he nearly went off the road. So, no more of that. "So..you're a shape shifter, right? But not like us..so..do you just change, or what?" Michael didn't completely understand the question, but he felt somehow that simply explaining from the beginning would get him to the answer faster than asking what he meant.

"well..see..it's not like I caught it or anything, I mean, it doesn't show up in a blood scan, but I AM the animals. I think like them, and the more furry I am, the more I act and think like them. An if I don't eat, then I end up more and more animal, like the food somehow keeps my body from forcin me ta get what I want, or need. So..Like..kay. I can't look out the side windows, an if I think too much about the fact that we're goin real fast, an I can't control it, I would freak out. But I had lots ta eat, so I'm not worried. I don't have ta change durrin a moon, an I can't really blame anythin on 'em. Cause..well..they're me, an I'm them. Make any sense?" Nethaniel nodded, and Jason tilted his head to the side. "Yeah, that made a lot of sense, actually. So like..when ya went after that guy, what was behind that?" Michael visibly shrunk down into himself, hunching his shoulders. "Well...that was 'cause I was hungry..an I smelled blood everywhere. An then there it was, right in front of me. An well..when that zombie went after it I had a quick thought that I had to get it, that it was mine if I didn't let him take it. An that it would be good. I dunno." he shook his head, when he knew perfectly well. He had thought the zombie was taking something he could have eaten, and he was hungry, which made it his unless he let the creature take it. He had wanted the blood, but he had wanted the guy, hell, he had wanted to eat the guy. It made him feel guilty for thinking it, but he couldn't exactly take it back.

"Well, I can see that, I guess." Jason smirked at the boy. He really was just a kid. "well, we'll have you home soon, so just sit back, and relax. Don't worry, Jean-Claude's a really nice boss, I'm sure he won't let anything bad happen to you. I'll bet he's just going to have you do some errands or something." Michael stretched, trying to make himself relax. He didn't expect he'd be earning any money, as he was supposed to be paying them back for the trouble he caused, but the idea of working, having something to do other than go to school, go home, and hang out with Ezzy tickled him. He wondered what his mother would have to say about him working for a vampire, and he grinned, moving to sit up straighter in his seat. He was suddenly excited to get home, even though he knew he would have to sleep before he got any sort of call about what was going on.

They pulled around in front of his house, and his mother was standing on the doorstep. The sky was still pale from sunrise, and she was wearing a rose pink house coat. She had probably dressed completely, but it was a little chilly. The fact that she was there made him raise an eyebrow. She never waited up for him. what was she doing standing on the doorstep? He put a hand out on the roof of the car, pulling himself out as he slid off the seat, taking his time to adjust the skirt as it had rode up around his hips. She gave him a deep disgusted and disdainful look, crossing her arms and pursing her lips. Michael turned, as if dismissing her, taking his time in leaning on the open sil of Nethaniel's window, who sat back a bit, giving him a curious look. Michael grinned, barely contained laugher in his face. "I really don't want to go talk to her, and the angrier she is, the less she'll be able to think of mean things to say. Can't hurt I'm hanging into a car where to hot guys are." Michael smirked, and the two boys laughed, Jason leaning across Nethaniel over at him. "You're going to get hit so hard someday." the blond shape shifter said, eyes flicking behind Michael at his mother, who looked like she was fuming.

"Yeah, I know. It's great, ain't it?" he leaned further into the car as if he were kissing Jason, then pulled back, standing up with hands on his hips, making no move to pull the back of his skirt down. Jason moved back into his seat, and Nethaniel leaned out his window a moment to wave to michael, then leaned back in his seat again as the car moved off, michael waving for all he was worth like a happy cheerleader, throwing a giddy look on his face as he spun around, skipping toward his mother. She looked very much like something disgusting were oozing toward her shoes, and she wanted nothing better than to move back, keep it from seeping toward her toes.

"I got a very interesting, and unwelcome call from a Frenchman, Michael." her tone was cold as she moved, holding the door open with one hand as she held her robe closed, as if she expected him to leave the moment her back was turned. He grinned, hands going to his hips as he walked into the house, boots thunking across the floor, to her great annoyance. "Did'ja? What about?" he asked in a vaguely interested tone as she pointed at his feet. "Take those off." she would have snarled, but ladies don't snarl. Michael waved an airy hand at her, moving to press his back against the entry wall, sticking his leg out straight, foot far above level with his shoulder. He was flashing the room, but that was her problem. It was the only way he could reach the laces. "Hai hai." he said in a drolling tone, moving quick fingers over the backs of the boot, until he couldn't reach anymore, sliding the thing off to let it hit hard on the floor, then switching feet.

His mother simply watched, arms crossed, staring at a point just to the right of his left shoulder, as if there were a very interesting dot on the wall. She waited for him to finish, wanting eye contact, but being unwilling to look past his leg at the one eye she could actually see. Michael finished, thunking that boot on the floor before he stooped down to scoop them both up, slinging them over his shoulder like a jacket. "Yes, I did. And he told me you had caused some trouble at one of his businesses. That my son, my 'so special son' had caused a disturbance, that he was going to need him to pay him back for. Do you know how terribly embarrassing it was to get such a call? Of all things you have done, you had the man in charge of such vile places call my home, MY home!" Her voice raised in pitch as michael started off to his room, padding on bare feet off to toss his new boots against his dresser. she stood in the doorway, fuming at him, unwilling to walk through papers and trash to get his attention.

"Well, yeah, I tried ta eat a guy, so I guess ya would get a call. Did he tell ya what I was goin ta be doin?" he asked in a dry slightly interested tone. If she started yelling he was going to jump out the window. He couldn't stand yelling. And her voice was a terrible one, high pitched, frantic whenever she got that upset. She leaned against the door frame, scowling. "Yes, he did. And you are going. I will not have my son be an honor-less beast. He said you will be working at the circus, showing people just what sort of monster you are." she turned, moving away down the hallway. Michael felt a sort of excitement bubble up in his stomach, and he wanted to laugh. Instead he moved over to the door, and called down in the hallway. "If I'm a monster, you're an abomination factory!" he grinned, slamming the door.

Working at the circus..and not as an errand boy. He thought there wasn't anything better than getting to use his shape shifting in public. This was the best birthday ever.

...How was he going to get a permit from school?


	10. Chapter 10 Work Me

Michael was sitting at his desk, tapping his pencil against his notebook. There were few actual scratchings across it, and none of them made any sense to the Asian boy. Math. He was never very good with math. The numbers all just got jumbled in his head, and he tended to simply pretend his way through, write down some obscure answer and then get away with more homework than anyone else. But the trick was, he could always simply use a calculator, or something else at home.

The terms never stuck in his head, and he wasn't really thinking about math anyways. He wanted to know just what he was going to be doing at the circus, and actually falling asleep. Ezzy turned to glare at him from her desk to his left, and actually started to reach out and smack his hand when the teacher; He never remembered her name. Math was really not something he was interested in; Turned around smartly and looked straight at him, as several others were doing. "Mr. Wong, can you solve this?" Michael looked up suddenly, face slipping off his fist. He had red marks on his face where it was, and a few people laughed. They were all pretty used to michael nodding off in math at any rate. He was going to have to go to summer school, and he knew it.

Michael looked up at the board, and everything just looked like chicken scratch to him. He sighed, sitting up then slouching against the back of his desk. He couldn't have looked any more disinterested, and it didn't earn him an impressed glance from the teacher, her eyes narrowing slightly. Michael sighed again, rolling his shoulders as he put a foot up on the back of the seat infront of him, the pretty red head turning to huff at him before she turned around to face front, sitting up straight and indignant. He let his arms drape over the back of his chair, tilting his head to the side as if he were actually studying the question, eyes flicking over it. A ooks of hope crossed the woman's face, but the moment he started speaking, it fell away into cold irritation.

"Well, ya have ta remove the coefficient of bat from the man to get man. An so ya take Batman, an ya take the coefficient of bat, along with the full factor, Batman, and multiply them by their equal values and you're left with the base element, which is Bruce Wayne. And that's how ya use calculus ta find the identity of Batman." There were several loud laughs, and michael knew he wasn't making any sense. He was just babbling, throwing out terms that popped into his head, and he wasn't really sure the terms themselves made sense, but he had seen a picture of it somewhere, and thought it had been funny. A perfect tool to use in such a situation.

"Thank you for that insight Mr. Wong, you can go to the office now." She crossed her arms, and michael bounced up, scooping up his bag as he went toward the door, several snickers sounding through the room as the woman glanced around. "I'll let them know you're coming." she called across the room as she sat down at her desk, picking up the ugly old phone. Michael turned to the class right after opening the door, and bowed, a wide sweeping motion. "Thus concludes our broadcast day." He nearly touched his nose to his shins, but his pack fell forward, slamming on the floor by his head, and he had to stand up before he fell over laughing as the class roared.

"Michael, Go now!" she sounded as if she would march across the room and throw him out if he didn't move, and michael turned with a smirk, hopping out the door before slamming it to run off. "And so I go, ZOOM!" he grinned, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He felt much better now that he wasn't in there, a headache he didn't know he had fading. Numbers were just too confusing for him. He barely understood science, and his english teacher thought he talked the way he did just to annoy him. Not winning any hearts this year. But he didn't mind. He raced off toward the office, resisting the urge to giggle. He was used to being in the office since the beginning of the year, having spent his time however he wanted, unless something interesting were happening. He had lost his interest in impressing his mother, and in doing so realized he wasn't all that interested in school. It was like being wonderful marksman, and not wanting to hunt deer. Just wasn't fun for him. And fun, he found, was his new inspiration.

There were no people out in the halls, as class was still quite in session, so he had no trouble skipping like a fairy. Michael wouldn't admit it to much anyone, but he was definitely not one of those tough gay guys. He liked nail polish, kittens, puppies, loved to watch cartoons, and he was definitely not against prancing through a toy store, snuggling the cute stuffed animals. He had a stash in his closet, teddy bears, bean filled smiling dollies, plush cats and even a black furred wolf. He slept with a furry brown dog that had definitely seen better days.

Michael raced up the corridor to the office, skidding to a halt outside the door, leaving dirty little tracks where he slid, moving to erase them by rubbing the toe of his boot over them. The door opened suddenly, making him look up a moment, but nothing more. He was used to it by now, and when the short squat woman put hands on hips, pursing her faintly lipsticked mouth he couldn't help but grin sheepishly up at her. "Michael, do you have to do that EVERY time?" she asked in her soft voice, shaking her head as she held the door open for him to walk in under her arm. He had never actually caught the woman's name, but she seemed like someone's favorite aunt. The woman who would bring you in and stuff you full of brownies while she planned out going to the movies or something. Very much a polite and smiling woman. Though you didn't want to get her angry. As soft as she was, she was just as hard.

Michael shrugged, moving to throw himself into one of the plastic and metal chairs lined up along the wall by the actual Principle's office doors. Though, throw was a strong word. He didn't flop, and he most certainly didn't look clumsy about it. It was like watching a cat throw itself down onto it's side on the floor. Graceful, smooth, and somehow like pouring water. Michael put an elbow in the chair to his right, slumping that way with one foot going into the chair to his left, the other leg trailing out along the floor as he picked at the sleeve of his under shirt. There was a stray string that caught his attention as he spoke, eyes following it as he tugged at the bit of cloth. "I dunno. Can't be fussed to stop and slow down, I guess." he glanced up and the woman shook a finger at his foot, as if telling it to hop down off the chair, and he moved it without thinking, still leaning over.

Almost as soon as he had finished the Principle's office door opened up, and he sat up at attention, looking at the tall serious looking man, his salt and pepper hair doing nothing to make him look younger. Michael moved and rolled out of the chairs, going to shove his hands into his back pockets as he was ushered into yet another room under someone's arm. "Do people do that on purpose to remind short people that they're smaller, or is it just something they do without thinkin?" he asked without looking at the man, moving to put himself in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He always wondered why they used two chairs, crossing his legs at the ankle as he slumped in the seat, hands folded over his stomach as if he should have had a ball cap to complete the image of a sleeping person.

"Mr Wong, might you be pressed to pay attention today? I do actually have something important to talk to you about." the man moved behind his desk, carefully lowering himself into his chair, sitting straight as if his posture spoke about his authority over the boy. He slid open a desk drawer, fishing in it for a small slip of double paper. Those pink and yellow slips with the black between, so that when you wrote it would press and transfer to the second. Michael tilted his head to the side, and found the position actually made the motion uncomfortable. He slid up, using elbows on the arms of the chair to push himself as he did it, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging down between his knees. "Ooh? Do ya, now?" he asked in that bored tone, and the man raised an eyebrow at him, a disdainful look on his face. He was used to the boy's behavior, and it had been such a drastic change from when they first admitted him to the school. Sometimes it surprised him. That harder voice, that so casual and uncaring stance, the look in the boy's face as though he really didn't care. It was so different from the perfectly postured boy, the stuttering shy youth that had sat in his office no more than a year ago.

"Yes, I do. And I agree with the man who spoke to me about it, and you do need more structure. Perhaps we'll be getting better academic results, if you're too tired to be obstinate?" he said, folding his hands together as he sat back. He really was getting tired of having to deal out detentions to the boy. He spent more time in the small spare classroom than he did in any of his other classes. It would have done him a far better length of good if the man simply sent him home, had his work mailed to him, and treated him like a home schooled child. Surely he would cram more in his head if he didn't have authority figures to tell him he had to do it at a specific time. It was a tempting solution, but he would save that for later, perhaps if it really came down to something like that. He didn't want to send the boy home. God knows what he would do when left to his own devices. Probably burn the building down around him, and when he wasn't even playing with fire. The notion had the man smiling, and he had to snap himself out of it as Michael leaned forward, hunching his shoulders with an irritated look on his face, waving a hand around in the air. "Uhh...'scuse me. Hello?" he snapped his fingers a moment, and the principal shook his head, trying to clear it as an annoyed look came over his face again.

Michael raised an eyebrow at him, letting his arm flop down, reaching to the floor with how he was leaning over his own knees. It was uncomfortable, but he knew it would irritate the man to have to peer over the end of his desk to see michael's grinning face. "You're going to be working at the Circus Of The Damned, apparently paying off money you cost them for up and ruining a show. I've already got your work permit here, and you'll have to take it in with you when you go in tonight." he started writing out with a pen, filling in the blank spaces, then handed both the pen and the paper to michael with a stern expression, as if warning him not to write anything funny on it. "Just sign. I'll take the yellow bit, and the pink is yours." he said as michael scrawled out his name, taking his time in doing so, making sure it was just so. The slow deliberate motion made the man roll his eyes, holding his hand out for the paper as he snapped his fingers a moment.

"Do please hurry up. I need to send you back to class, and then tend to other matters. You're supposed to show up at sundown tomorrow, and that's all the rest I've got to tell you." he got the paper back, tore the respective pieces apart, and handed michael back his portion, immediately turning to a stack of papers to his right. A pile of permission slips, if michael wasn't mistaken. He wondered how terrible it would be if he suddenly slapped at them, sent them flying through the room as he dashed out. He was excited to be heading off to do something actually having something to do with his shifting. And the word "excited" didn't seem to fit the emotion quite well, but it was the best he could come up with just then.

Though, when Michael got to the Circus that night, what he got to do wasn't as cool as he thought. An opening act for something bigger. That really wasn't what he had bargained for. Okay, so he hadn't bargained for anything, and he had to do what they said, because facts were facts, and he was an under-aged worker. They couldn't work him more than a couple hours a week, and his mother hadn't wanted him to spend all that much time at the circus. She had expressly said that if they kept him too long after dark, that she would be taking legal action, and filing a suit against them. Jean-Claude was a smart business man, and smart business men did not get themselves into such situations. So, michael was wearing a tiny little suit, some skin tight thing in black, ripped ends to the arms and legs, padding around in bare feet with his hair done up in some weird way on top of his head. He couldn't quite describe it. It was as if someone had come and made a nest of his hair, messy, but somehow it looked good. And there were little swirls drawn on his cheeks, a dark and light blue mix that brought out the color of his eyes in a startling way.

He had a collar on, some pale baby blue thing with a dramatically sized bell that actually rang if you swung it around a little. He'd given the bell a raised eyebrow, said he didn't want to wear something that made him look like a silly anime character, but he'd gotten the response back that he wasn't the boss, and had shrugged and put it around his neck. Michael knew perfectly well what the difference between boss and employee was, so he didn't think he had much sway in the choices made, but he'd be damned if he wore the funny shoes they'd given him. He wanted to go around barefoot, or wear his sneakers. That was his solid condition, and Jean-Claude had actually come into the room to try and convince him to put shoes on.

"Mon Chaton, you are not a little street urchin, and the shoes will fit you fine, I do so swear it. Please put them on? We have little time to tell you your piece before tonight's performance, and I don't want to waste all that preparation time just to have you go out barefoot, with no idea what you are to do." Jean-Claude was using his best pleading tone, but Michael was having nothing of it. First off, he didn't even want to describe how uncomfortable the black one piece was, and on the second, he didn't want to know what they thought he was going to be doing that he needed a comically sized bell.

He'd actually asked if they even knew what he was, and Jean-Claude had quite eloquently said that 'Elizabeth' was a most talkative girl, when you used the proper tones. Michael had raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms, and the curly headed vampire had given a gallic shrug, something that meant everything and nothing. Something that said, 'I don't know.' and 'well there you have it' at the same instance. It was a confusing thing, but somehow it made sense. Ezzy just liked pretty men.

Michael was still padding around in bare feet when they headed out into the hall, after insisting that with what they wanted, bare feet only fit. Ezzy had apparently spilled all she could about michael, and how he changed, so they weren't worried that he was going to spoil his costume. The show was only minutes away, and michael was sorely tempted to simply run out and change in front of everyone, so excited that his power leaked out into the space behind the curtains, in the little alcove where the actors stayed until they were called for. Half the tent was dark, the other half stuffed with people, lights shining toward them so they wouldn't see the performers until the proper time. Michael danced from foot to foot until a pale long fingered hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked, smelling Yurick before he even looked at him. A smile spread over michael's face, and he did a little hop, moving to jump and wrap arms around the brown haired vampire at the same time. He looked different, and michael saw it was because his hair was braided back, held in a silver cuff off his neck, and beyond that, he saw skin under his nose. With a little yelp he jumped back, nearly tumbling out the curtains, But Yurick caught him.

"Woah, woah there. Careful. Almost brained yourself on the floor. Here, stand still. And calm down. You're going to start changing before your cue." He seemed ready to giggle at the excited Asian boy, and michael defiantly turned to the side, facing the curtains again as a blush sprang across his cheeks.

"They said 'a vampire' was going to escort the others out, but they didn't say that it was going to be you. Bastards." he murmured, looking back at Yurick as the blush spread thicker over his face. Yurick laughed, a hand going to his hip. He was dressed in nothing more or less than a rough hide loincloth, hanging like a skirt in back and front, cut high on his hips at the sides. On his feet were rough wrapped boots, something he would have thought to see a caveman wear. Michael thought it was the most ridiculous thing on the planet, and thanked the Gods he wasn't wearing something more like it. Even black can hide a few things, and he was thankful for that too. He wanted to run away and bury his face in a clean and unused pillow, cleans himself.

"Well, it really doesn't matter who escorts them out, it isn't as though they're going to be seeing me very long. Walk in, walk out. I'm just a flashy fleshy thing to toss on the fire." he smirked, and tilted his head to the side. Michael was suddenly being very quiet, and it was interesting to see the boy when he wasn't full of alcohol. He turned, a sound catching his ears as two boys that Michael hadn't met walked in, and he could guess who they were simply by smelling them. The one with the odd green hair was Zaine, and he could tell simply because he was the one who smelled like a big cat. That thick feline musk, as if you could smell skin and muscle, and the hot sun on it all. Panthers always smelled like the sun to Michael.

Next was someone he didn't know, who he had been told was named Chester. Chester the werewolf. Somehow, it just didn't fit in his mind. Zaine he could see as a were-panther name, but Chester...somehow that just sounded like a pet's name.Michael didn't say any of it out loud though, his eyes trailing down over the boys. They were dressed similarly to him, only they didn't have to wear big jingly bells on their twin red collars, and they actually weren't wearing shoes either. Michael thought it was kind of unfair that they had been trying to convince him to wear his little blue leather boots, and then the other boys went without, but he supposed it made sense. It would have hurt to shift inside shoes, and have your feet burst through them. He wondered faintly if they would break a toe if that happened, wrinkling his nose.

"Hey squirt. Heard about'cha. Gonna be in the show, huh?" The green haired man reached out, ruffling up michael's hair, making it an even bigger mess than it already was. Michael made a half yip, half wail and dashed behind Yurick, shivers dancing behind his shoulder blades, making him bite on the corner of his bottom lip, but that wasn't a very good distraction. "D-d-don't touch my hair." he stammered out, peeking from behind the brown haired vampire, giving the green haired man a wide eyed expression as the blush on his cheeks flared to life again.

Zaine put his hands up, making a 'not armed' motion as if michael had a gun on him, and smiled. "Sorry tiny man. Didn't mean to do anything funny. You just look so cute." he grinned, putting his hands down again as music with a heavy and droning beat of drums started up. It made michael tilt his head to the side, sway a little with his hands hanging down by his sides, and all three of the others stared at him a moment. Michael's eyes unfocused, and he sighed a little. Somehow the beats were comforting, like cuddling up on something warm and furred, using that tone to go to sleep to. He smiled a dreamy smile, and Zaine reached out, snapping fingers in the Asian shifter's face.

"Hey now, stop that. It's kinda creepy." he laughed a little, and michael blushed, letting his head go forward as he reached his left arm up to pet at his right upper arm. "Sorry. Didn't mean to. Do stuff like that all the time." he murmured, moving to rock from heel to toe, a sort of odd gesture, as if he were excited, when really...he was just extremely embarrassed. Zaine shook his head, moving to walk past michael and toward the curtains with Chester the werewolf giving the boy a skeptical look, Yurick standing between them. He reached hands up, and at first Michael thought that he was petting them, but his hands went to the collars at their necks, and trailed down leads he hadn't seen before. Michael stepped up to the curtain as the music picked up, instruments he couldn't name making the beat something with more of a tune than a simple beat, and a voice called out through the dark.

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen. We have a wonderful show for you tonight, a small surprise, and a grand finish. Please, do enjoy our feral play." Jean-Claude's smooth voice came floating out into the noisy crowd, and they all quieted as Yurick lead the two men out, a no-nonsense look to his walk as he moved out and away. Michael didn't need light on this side of the tent to see them, watch them walk, and just before they got to the light, the 'animals' on either side of the vampire dropped to hands and knees, going to crawl into the light in such a way as you knew they weren't human. A liquid grace that made them look like their limbs moved in impossible ways, in ways no human body could have. But it wasn't disturbing..it begged you to stare, to keep your eyes on them. It made you want to put hands on their shoulders, their backs, just so you could feel that movement for yourself, make sure you weren't seeing things.

Michael clutched hands to the edge of the right hand curtain, leaning out a little as he watched. That smooth and cultured voice came again, and he shivered, an odd feeling like ice down his spine, water trickling along the bumpy ridges had him reaching back, rubbing at what he could to make it go away.

"Two beasts, men and animal kept separate but by the smallest thread of magic. Man, Human, Cocoon;" the last word had michael leaning further into the darkness, taking a few steps he wasn't even aware he had taken into the dark, watching as Yurick dropped the leads, moving back into the dark and toward michael. Michael wasn't paying attention to him though. He had never seen another person shift, and though he had heard stories, he had no idea how it looked, how it must feel. He was tingly with excitement, and a hand on his shoulder again had him aware that he had been walking forward for a better look.

The green haired man crawled forward into the center of the lit area, moving to throw himself up, standing on tiptoes as he stretched, arms going above his head. But as he did it, a sick cracking started ringing out through the tent, and a few terrified screams called in the lit area, gasps and sounds of awe. The green haired man ended up splitting, his back rippling as if there were an angry see underneath, but not in that liquid looking way michael had. No, this was like watching maggots eat a body in fast motion, but have something entirely different come out from underneath, clear liquid spilling up and around all the breaks in the body, fur flowed over the skin, bones broke and re-knit, his body grew, until a black panther about the size of a small pony stood there.

There were cheers, sounds of awe and respect, interested whoops and calls. It had been sickening, and interesting to say the least, and michael found his eyes glued to the panther that used to be a man.

There was movement, and more calls, but less frightened than before, a hushed whispering, and thrum of excitement in the air as michael watched the second man change, spilling from his human form into wolf, grey and brown mixed together in some beautiful combination that shone and glowed under the light of the spotlights. The two animals glared at each other, and michael knew it was his turn to walk out, moving in a rush to get to the edge of the light, then take a deep breath. He counted, one...two...three..and the two made like they would jump at each other, but Michael walked out of the darkness, giving a little sway to his step so he looked like a cat walking on two legs, the bell at his kneck tinkling a little. He knew he looked like a little boy in the outfit, but he did what he had been told.

Amid a great cry of "Awww..." as the other two animals backed off, Michael stepped, then that warm happy rush tingled through him and he let it leak into his eyes as he stared up and at the crowd, the light catching the blue as it bled into amber, soft gasps when he had finished changing. Only the people near the front seemed to see it, and that made him feel he'd wasted the gesture, but he continued, opening his jaws to yawn, pointed teeth on his top and bottom jaws, and there were little gasps again, a few hands going to lady's mouths. Michael wanted to go faster, couldn't wait to change, and it helped as he let out a low angry cat sound, making it as loud and agitated as he could, and there were a couple screams, but they sounded too fake to him. They were all thinking he was just a cute little boy shape shifter. That sort of insulted him. He wasn't supposed to be cute. Michael didn't like being cute.

It wasn't what he was supposed to do, but Michael dropped down to all fours, fingertips brushing the sawdust covered concrete as he grinned, a wide and sinister smile that would have been more fit on someone older, and looked more devious on his fragile china doll face. Eyes went wide, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Michael was supposed to go slow...but..this was better.

He suddenly jumped, a high and far arch toward the railing as he shifted, liquid smooth and rippling, no sound but the surprised gasps around, and he landed on the railing, a slightly smaller panther than the other man, but he was still growing. He let out an angry panther crawl, that low and roiling noise spilling up and out of him as people gasped. He walked along the railing as if it were as wide as any sidewalk, tail flicking in agitation as he eyed the crowd. He was supposed to be leaving by now, but he was much too close to the thick smell of fear and excitement, and it made him want to snap at them.

Quick as the other transition michael jumped from the railing again, onto the sawdust covered ground, and as he landed, black wolf paws hit, and he gave the crowd those pale white-blue eyes, and there was suddenly a roaring of clapping. It hurt his ears, and he snarled, snapping at them a moment and they gasped, but it seemed to only thrill them further.

Jean-Claude's easy voice came over the loud speaker again, and he thought for a moment that he was going to be scolded, told to get down like a bad kitty on the furniture.

"Well, our little shifting prince has certainly given us a show. But he's not done yet. Who would like to pet our little kitten?" hands dashed up into the air suddenly, and michael knew what he was supposed to do. In a slow lingering movement he crawled under the railing, and up onto the cement walk that was slightly raised above the center ring, up where the people were. As he did it, he went to panther again, ears going back as people yet again clapped. He didn't understand why it was so special, his sudden changing. He assumed it was just the fact that he could change into two things, instead of just one.

A vampire dressed in a tux with honest to god tails came up from out the darkness, moving with a black bag that he held beside his hip until he came up next to michael, and they walked the crowd, people petting him, tickling under his chin, scratching behind his ears. It wasn't that he didn't like the petting, but Michael was getting very very tired, and nearly snapped at a man who tried petting along his tail like you would with any ordinary house cat. That was attached to his spine, thank you very much! He had to be taken back down by the man, change into Human form as the vampire bent, picked him up in his arms as if he were a toddler, bow as people Ooed, and Awed, snuggling against that unfamiliar chest to sleep.

Michael wasn't sure why it made him so tired to change so often, but it did. He slept on, and it became a normal habit. He would go in and frighten the crowd, get a bit of petting, and leave exhausted while the more acrobatic stuff set up. He did end up having quite a bit of money to stuff into a jar in his room, a jar his mother had taken to glaring at every time she came near enough to his doorway to do so. But michael was happy. He didn't feel pent up, and people were appreciating him for his talents.

Well, some people.


	11. Chapter 11 Make Me

Michael lay sprawled out on the ground, only it wasn't quite as hard as he remembered it. At least, not since he was thirteen. No, the ground at the circus may have been concrete, but it was certainly softer with the sawdust of the smaller tent under his cheek. The sweet scent of vomit and blood lay everywhere, but it was something you got used to. He wasn't sure why he was studying the floor, but his head was pounding, spinning really. He felt cold against the side of his face, and a splitting, pulling, stinging that he knew was his lip broken against his teeth. Now why was he on the ground...

Fingers culled in his hair and he giggled, a high and intoxicated sound as he was drug up by the black locks, and a growl spread out behind him, angry power flicking out like army ants, bitting and stinging up his body in a hot and angry wave. But it only made him giggle more, stretching and pulling against that hold on his hair with a grin on his face that split his lip more, made the blood flow faster. He looked over his shoulder at the lean form of the man who had hit him. Not everyone had been pleased with his performances of late, and it was starting to get to him, claw marks littering his back, barely healed from last time.

"Awww come on Harvy. I didn't do that bad." he snickered as the man snarled at him, moving to punch him in the face, and he suddenly remembered that was why he'd been on the floor in the first place. Well, it made sense. Some of the Weres had been quite displeased with the little Asian teen, swearing up and down that he had it easy, how easy they were never quite specific, other than the fact that he wasn't forced to change during a full moon, that he wasn't contagious. That he changed without pain, didn't have to reknit bones to change into something else. Didn't get tired afterward and pass out. Didn't have to stay in animal form for a while to keep from being vulnerable.

Okay, so a bit more specific than Michael cared for. Every scrape and bruise across his body, every torn bit of skin, and every scar he had was in one way or another the result of one of them trying to take their anger out on him for being who and what he was. Not really that fair in the black haired shifter's mind, but he could deal with it. He healed faster than human, all be it not THAT fast, but still pretty good. He scared up something nice though, thin little pink marks all over his back. But nobody saw them, so he wasn't concerned with it ruining the show. And it wasn't as though he could catch lycanthropy, so that wasn't a problem either. If it helped them feel better, he figured it was just easier not to make a fuss.

He was brought back from his thoughts as a hand pressed against his throat. He was on the ground again, but on his back. He didn't remember moving through the air...Losing time. Not a good thing. The hand pressed tight against him, and he grinned, an odd daring smile creeping across his face, a sickeningly devilish look as he locked blue hued eyes on fierce wolf yellow, tears collecting in his eyes as his lungs struggled for air.

"You stupid kid...you don't know what it's like. And here you go parading how much better you are. Think you're so special now...? Can't even protect yourself, can you?" the man pressing on his neck snarled, and pretty colors collected around his vision. Something must have made a sound, because the man moved, sliding hands lightning fast down to grab at Michael's wrists, and he grabbed on reflexively, being pulled up to his feet as he wobbled, lungs sucking air as color spread back over the wavering edges of his vision.

"Gotta watch it, kid. You slipped up there." the man pointed up at the ropes, and all Michael did was shake his head and smile sheepishly, a hand going up to brush through his hair as he wobbled forward, raising eyes to see why the sudden change.

And there he stood with his halo of brown curly hair, Yurick with his drowning chocolate brown eyes. Michael grinned, pointing to his face with a proud look. "Landed wrong and smashed my fuckin face with my knee cap. Tell me, am I pretty?" he grinned, tilting his face so the light would hit the blossoming bruise on his jaw, a smirk so wide it actually made the puffy skin pull at his eye and he had to stop, wincing a little to walk away from the man. It was how he did it. Pretend they didn't hurt him, and they would leave him alone. If they didn't get to hurt him, they would tease, bite at him in the worst ways, tear him down. But if he let them hurt him up a bit...well, they got over it.

Yurick shook his head, crossing his arms. "Prettier than ever. Your knee hurt?" he glanced behind Michael with obvious accusation in his eyes at the werewolf behind him. Michael glanced as he put hands on his hips, wishing he had his pants on instead of his performance outfit, so he could shove hands in his back pockets. He was going to rush back to his room and draw, draw hard. He felt it building up in his stomach in a sort of sickening wave, a nervous tension that made him bounce and run up the stairs, throw arms around Yurick to bite at the edge of his jaw playfully, but when he went to dance away and out of the tent, the young vampire grabbed at his wrist, stopping him so he could walk with him to the storage room of the Circus.

"You didn't do that with your knee, did you?" Michael shrugged, and yawned, stretching. He wanted to just go to his room and have it out of him his own way. Yurick always paid too much attention, worrying when there was no need. He was his best friend, of which he had two...but Michael didn't see sense in saying you like one person above all others. He liked Ezzy and Yurick more than anyone else, so he had two best friends. Fifteen and he was already well and truly on his way to doing quite good at the Circus. He'd gotten a side act with the acrobats, and he was getting good enough that Jean-Claude was getting ideas. He knew that look on the vampire's face, and he simply couldn't wait for it.

"Aww come on, Yurick. Ya worry too much. Ain't nothin." he shrugged, but the vampire pressed a finger to the side of his neck, and it suddenly burned all up and down his head, neck, pulled his shoulders tight and made him hiss under his breath.

"Nothing, hmm? You have a ring of bruises around your throat like an ungodly necklace. Why do you let them beat on you, Mikey?" he lead the way through the empty booths, past the closed attractions to the storage room, nearly time for him to be going to bed, but he had wanted to make sure Michael was alright. He'd been coming in smelling like blood and cuddling up next to him right before sun rise, but it had been so close he couldn't ask about it, and he was always gone before the brown haired vampire got up.

"GODS Ricky, stop pokin at it! Shit!" he danced away, a hand going up to his throat, and he blushed, face going soft and childishly frightened a mere second before it went angry and sulky, his hands lacing behind his neck as he licked out over his bottom lip, but the motion turned into a gentle licking out over his new wound. These he wasn't trying to keep, and he was going to have to eat to keep the energy up, he knew it. He already had to eat, then that stupid walking talking pit-bull had pounced on him.

"I don't have ta explain myself ta ya." he said in a dry unamused tone, tilting his head back to look at the vampire as he continued, walking up to the door, and Yurick opened it for him without even a second glance. He was always opening doors for him, taking him by the hand. He wasn't trying to play the boyfriend, Michael knew that, but it was kind of funny. He'd told him he should just say they were dating and get it over with, but neither of them thought of it like that. They were friends, nothing more. Though, with the way Michael thought, his very way of living, they were more than friends, they just never acted like it. Sex was sex to Michael, nothing more or less mushy than ordering papers, or washing dishes. It was something fun to do with his friend, who also thought it was fun. No emotional obligation to explain himself if he didn't want to.

Well, that's what he thought.

"You would have let him choke you until you passed out. And then what would he have done? Do you know? I saw it in your face when I came in. You would have let him do it, just so you wouldn't cause waves." Yurick went to the thick wooden door and knocked hard on it, insistently. It took a few moments of standing under the swinging light bulb that lit the room, but someone came to the door, opened it.

"Hi Nethaniel." Michael grinned, moving to bounce past the auburn haired wereleopard, bouncing down the steps with Yurick hurrying after him, and apologetic look cast back at the man.

"We're not done Mikey!" he called after him, but he wasn't listening anymore. He was done. He didn't need to be told things he already knew, and it wasn't as though he was going to stop. He danced through the livingroom area like a fairy on drugs, giggling and bouncing as he went, running off to his room on flat feet as soon as he hit the stones of the corridor, going down and around a corner, the winding hall as he heard quick footsteps chasing after him. He got to his door and flung it open, not making a move to close it as he dove under the bed, a practiced slide in his new costume to slither under, barely needing to move for his momentum to simply carry him under like a penguin on ice. The image of being a penguin passed through his mind, making him giggle again as he pressed up and into the area under his bed, pulling at a box he had there, shoving it out to peel the top off the plastic thing, pushing around ready to eat food boxes, candies and snacks until he closed a fist around a package of "add water" Udon, and a tin of chicken pieces.

He had electricity in his room, a coffee pot for actual hot water, and a bathroom to get the water from, so he pretty much had a little apartment. He knew Yurick wouldn't stop him from eating, and his meal was pretty small in the first place, but he wasn't complaining. The vampire in question walked in through his door and closed it, and he gave him a shit eating grin, motioning to a clock on his bedside table.

"You stay, and you're going to end up sleeping in here." he bounced up from the floor, going to set his things down on the top of the low dresser where his coffee pot was, taking the little pitcher to the bathroom to fill with water as he hummed to himself, coming back out to see a pissed off Yurick sitting on his black and ice-blue covered bed, arms crossed and looking VERY angry.

Michael couldn't help the hunching of his shoulders that he did, a soft whimper in his voice. In every way possible Yurick was his dominant, at least when the doors were closed. It made him want to dash over and yank the door open, triumphantly shout 'HAHA! Now you can't control me!' but he didn't, a blush creeping across his face just from the silly thought as he put the water in the machine and clicked it on. The noises started up and he stared at the pot, squatting down to stare into the pitcher, watch the hot water drip down with hands clutching the edge of the dresser, balancing on the fronts of his feet.

"I'm going to stay until you realize just how reckless you're being. You're going to get yourself really hurt, or worse, killed some day. You can't just let them bully you, Mikey." But what was he supposed to say? He always did it. Always would. He knew it. Michael was the happy smiling painted up punching bag. You hit it, and it always came back for more.

"Glutton for punishment, I suppose." he said, looking back with a grin, but it made Yurick growl low in his throat a moment, narrow his eyes, and Michael's own eyes went wide as he looked back at the pot, a soft yip of surprise in his voice. He could usually play it cute, grin and bat his long lashes, and the brown haired vampire would cave in, wrap arms around him and yank his clothes off. It wasn't working this time.

"Michael Fey Wong, you are going to get yourself killed. Do you know what Elizabeth would say if she found out? She'd tell you that you were being a complete dumbass. And despite the language, I quite agree. If you don't stand up for yourself, you'll get dead. And not in a pretty way like me. Just dead. You're strong enough to assert yourself, why don't you?" And that was the Crux of it. Michael knew it was unhealthy, and he knew that he would get it someday, and not in a good way, but he really couldn't fight back against them. They were all dominant against him, and had proven it right from the start. Michael had a tic in his brain, a sort of chemistry. He literally couldn't go against a dominant's wishes, couldn't even defend himself. He knew it was wrong, and so not human, but he didn't even have to think about it. It was a feeling. They were dominant, and he was lesser. They were in charge, and he had to do what they wanted.

"Can't..I just.." he looked up, brown eyes burning into his and he turned around again, popping open the package for his noodles as he poured hot water into them, glancing at the clock for the minutes to pass as he opened up the can of chicken bits, pouring them in with the hot water.

"I just can't. I can't even explain it, damnit..It's sort of like mind control, except it's built into me. I could be in charge if I were dominant, but I'm not. They took that away, and I just...I don't know. Can we stop now?" he shook his head, sighing as he hunched his shoulders, a slight trembling as he held onto the edge of the dresser. He didn't want to be forced into doing it, it wasn't going to change anything. If he did anything to someone who was quite obviously dominant to him, he wasn't sure what he could do. He supposed it was just as well. If he ever tried to fight one of them, hurt them, made them angry...it would be like a puppy fighting an older dog. Even if he won, he would still feel like tucking his tail between his legs and begging forgiveness. He didn't have the heart for being dominant to anyone.

Yurick stood up, straightening his pants without a word as he went to the door, hand resting on the handle as Michael watched, raising eyebrows at him. He'd come to his room, and they hadn't even snuggled a little. He felt like he'd done something wrong, but he wasn't sure for the life of him what it could have possibly been. He couldn't help the way he was inside...was Yurick punishing him for it?

"I'm going to go see Jean-Claude. He's still up, but I'll have to be quick." The brown haired vampire opened the door, and Michael went to follow him, carrying his bowl of noodles and a plastic fork, determined not to let him go so easy. "Tell him? Tell him what?" it was as if the whole conversation had no bearing on anything else, as if Yurick couldn't possibly have been serious about Michael needing to stop. After all...you couldn't stop being who you were just because someone said so...could you? It just wasn't that easy. It never would be.

Yurick walked back to the living room with Michael following in tow, trying to get him to stop, trying to get him to go back to the bedroom; He didn't want to be told on. He didn't want to be punished for something that was already in it's own right a punishment. All be it an unfair punishment, but he'd found that all the pleading in it's own wasn't enough, so he'd stopped that a while ago. Almost sixteen and he was still whining and begging like a child. He didn't really understand that it was only natural; Thought he was supposed to just suck it up and take it.

"Come on Yurick, stop. Let's just go." He looked comical, pleading and begging as he continued to stuff food in his mouth, at such a rate that one would have thought that he was part vacuum; Black hole. He knew how important it was for him to keep fed, and he didn't want anything to happen, even though he sorely wanted to simply put the food down and continue on without it, clinging to Yurick as was his typical fashion. Like a human shaped novelty backpack, he was. Yurick shook his head, sighing a little as he passed through that white barrier into the living room. Jean-Claude sat staring at the fire in the faux fireplace, sipping tea was his only guess as he moved into the room, Michael following like a cloud of sulky embarrassment, not even aware of the lovely dark bruising across his face and neck as he ate at his noodles.

"Did you need something Yu-"his question started off amused enough, but the moment he caught sight of Michael he stopped, face dropping to a blank one, a slightly amused and seductive smile on his face. He knew Michael was more the type of lover that Nethaniel was, but he'd never condoned hitting in the face, and with the color of the bruising it was evident someone had tried their best to strangle him. Yurick would never have tried such dangerous play. His midnight blue eyes passed between Husky-blue ones and chocolate brown, a questioning raise of an eyebrow as he looked at the younger vampire.

"Not my doing." Yurick shook his head as Michael went over to sit on the floor by the glass top table, quietly eating up the last of his noodles. He really didn't want to be a part of the conversation, but there was a look in Yurick's eyes that said if he tried to leave, he would well break his legs. Jean-Claude looked between the two again, and Michael hunched his shoulders, Yurick glaring at him like he'd said something stupid already. Jean-Claude sighed, leaning back against the couch as he set his teacup down, crossing his legs at the knee, arms going out across the back of the sofa. He always posed, but it wasn't as if he was doing it on purpose. Michael had realized that. The French vampire simply...posed. Natural talent, he guessed.

"Am I going to have to guess, or will one of you tell me what's floating about the air like angry bees?" He asked in a bored tone, and Yurick went to stand by Michael, reaching a hand down to pet at his hair. He was angry, but he supposed it wasn't his shape shifting friend's fault. Michael set his empty cardboard bowl down and sighed, leaning in against Yurick's leg like a happy well fed cat, glad he was getting touched.

"Michael has been receiving visits from our other furry friends. They aren't as happy to have him as the rest of us are, and have taken to punishing him for the woes of their kind." Yurick said, pulling a little on Michael's hair to show off the bruises around his throat, and all the Asian boy did was groan and lean harder against his legs. It was like watching a cat drunk on catnip, who only wanted to be petted harder.

"And he didn't fight back? Our chaton has a bite quite a lot harder than some of theirs when he applies himself. And he's faster. How was he caught?" Jean-Claude's eyes narrowed, and he sat forward, folding his hands in his lap. He knew the others were agitated at the Asian shapeshifter, but he hadn't known they'd been laying into him in such a...heated way. The bruises across the boy's so pale neck made it look like whoever had done it was determined to kill him.

"Michael doesn't actually see a way to fight back. I think it's...well, we all know he's pretty screwed up in the head, but there's no way in his thinking for him to fight back." Yurick let go of Michael's hair, and it was as if he hadn't heard a single word of any of the things the two vampires had said, rubbing his cheek against Yurick's leg as a thick purr came from his throat. He reached a hand up, rubbing his palm along Yurick's leg in a slow motion to obvious other places, and a swift pale hand came down to slap at his hand like he was a cat reaching over onto your plate, Yurick rolled his eyes. "Honestly, do you think of nothing else?"

"Well ya did just pull my hair somethin awful. Ya big stingy bastard." he grumped, wrapping arms around Yurick's leg. He was getting sleepy, and he'd had food. It was either fuck or eat soon, and it looked like he was just going to have to sleep. His face and neck hurt, but it was only adding to it. If he went to sleep he didn't have to feel any of it, and it sounded like a great escape to him as he bounded up, throwing himself up onto his feet in that easy liquid motion, stretching with a yawn. Even stretching he was only barely four foot nine, and lean as a lizard.

"I'm goin ta bed. Ya two have fun talkin about me like I ain't here, 'cause I won't be. Nice change from a couple seconds ago, I think." he said as he started on back the way they had come. He had great dreams of crawling up under his bed with his extra pillow, laying out on the thick blanket he already had tucked up under there and just sleeping till he couldn't anymore. He'd dropped out of school a while ago, not technically legal, but he didn't much fancy staying in, not when he could work at the circus, and not when he wasn't really into it anymore. He missed going to art, and seeing Ezzy around school, but they still hung out a lot. He just didn't care about school anymore.

Michael started off on his way to the exit, but a hand on the scruff of his neck stopped him, and he growled a little. "Aw come on Ricky, lemmie go. I just wanna sleep, kay? Healing this shit takes a lot of energy out 'a me, ya know. I stay up too long an the energy drain from bein awake, an from healing is going to make me have ta eat again, an I really don't like havin ta do it." he sighed, and Yurick let go of him, giving him that look that said he had to stay put or else. Michael shrugged, going over to the table to pick up his trash, fiddling with an tearing at an edge, making all kinds of noise in the room as the two vampires went still, that odd stillness of statues that they could slip into. Michael had to look up and around to make sure they were even in the room.

Jean-Claude moved first, as Yurick was engaged in staring at the Asian shape shifter.

"What do you want me to do about it?" He asked, that so smooth tone that made you feel chastised without even a change in his voice, a look in his eyes. It was just the voice alone, and the words, somehow hot and stinging, irritation you could touch. Yurick shuddered and Michael hunched his shoulders. He was getting Yurick in trouble and it was all his fault.

"I want them to stop, I don't care what you have to do to to it...Please?" He added at the end, thinking the statement sounded more like a command than an answer. But his friend was in trouble, apparently trouble he was unable and unwilling to get himself out of, and he wanted it to end there. Jean-Claude nodded his head thoughtfully, and it was clear on his features that he already had an idea.

"What is mine cannot be hurt by anything else that is mine...and the shapeshifters, as they work here, are mine in a sense. They won't be able to hurt him if he were, say, my pet. Yes...something like that would certainly keep them from hurting him. Oh of course it will be in name only. He cannot feed me with blood, and I refuse to take children..so he cannot feed me with his body. But he can have the title nonetheless." Yurick smiled, a bright happy boyish thing, but it wilted around the edges as midnight blue eyes turned to him.

"There is a price to pay for such a thing, as I will have to keep quite an eye on the boy. You will have to start working at guilty pleasures for me. You are well on the way to looking twenty, despite your physically young age. You've contributed nothing and expect me to do you favors. I do not stand to gain anything further from this action, except perhaps not having police swoop in and collect a body of a young boy from my premises. So you will have to pay me back." Jean-Claude smiled, that smile that was pure smug seduction, and Yurick's face fell, Michael looking between the two like a child trying to understand an adult conversation. He wasn't sure what was happening, everything going too fast for him, but he got the general idea. Jean-Claude wanted something from Yurick, and the younger vampire didn't like it.

"What's wrong? What's guilty pleasures?" He tilted his head to the side, both vampires giving him equally surprised looks. He honestly had never heard of the place, but it sounded interesting. He wondered just what it was; Probably something dirty by the sounds of it. It made him grin, and Yurick frowned at him.

"Jean-Claude has been at me to strip for him since I came here. I have refused on the grounds that it actually made me terribly uncomfortable. Having women stare at me whom I didn't know, whom I wasn't allowed to actually be anything with...that just serves to pen on paper like whoring. And I am not a whore." Yurick turned angry eyes at Jean-Claude, and he stared right back, narrowing his eyes into a cold gesture, face going hard and set. Stripping sounded fun. "I want to do that for my eighteenth birthday. Have a party with everyone I know and actually like. It'd be so damned fun." he grinned. Yurick shook his head. "I don't want to."

"You will, or I will not do this thing for you. You contribute nothing. Either you do, and I do as you ask, or you leave and I do what you ask, getting someone who can take your place and earn their keep, or you will not have this thing done for you. It is your own choice." Yurick squared his shoulders, jutting his jaw to the left before he sighed.

"Alright.." Jean-Claude smiled, sitting back again, and Michael raised eyebrows. He had sure given in easily.

"I'll leave then."


	12. Chapter 12 Leave Me

Michael blinked, raising his head as if surely he hadn't heard right, an odd sort of smile on his face. There was no way Yurick would up and leave him alone at the circus. Well, alright so he wasn't alone, Nethaniel and Jason were there, but they weren't as close friends as Yurick was. His mouth got away with him when he did open it though, his sudden high anxiety making the worst kind of word vomit spew up and out of him.

"You can't leave, Yurick. Who'll have sex with me, and tell me bed time stories?" He giggled a little at the sound of his own voice, breathy and disbelieving, an odd shaky quality to it. He only spent two years with the brown haired vampire, and though they weren't boyfriends it still hurt to have him so easily, so suddenly say he was going to up and go away. Didn't they like each other enough for him to stay? Why couldn't he just shake his pretty man bits for a couple horny ladies, give them a show? It was all just acting. Wasn't real. It didn't matter who they were, or anything like that. Not in Michael's mind at any rate.

"I'll..I'll be good. I won't let them hurt me any more. Come on Yurick, just say you'll stay, alright? Huh?" he moved, going to hang on the vampire as he pleaded, using his best sad pouty face. It helped that he was already suddenly sad and lonely at the thought, his bottom lip pulling into his mouth, that so forlorn and confused look on his face he always got when he chewed just on the corner. Yurick shook his head.

"Can you even do that? Can you swear to me you won't let them hurt you?" Yurick asked, and michael's face brightened up at it, an actual bounce in his step as he hugged him, moving away as he thought the hug was too tight, a sheepish look of sudden explosive happiness, barely contained joy. He went prancing and skipping around the room, something that made Jean-Claude smile, press the back of a hand to his lips as if he were hiding silent giggles at the boy's so...well, girlish display.

"Ooh! I'll be good, I'll be very good! I'll beat them up and down, and make them wish they'd never come near me!" He sang, going back to tug at Yurick's hand, nearly dragging him along as he did it.

Yurick grinned, giving Jean-Claude a little wave as they left, going to stand himself, running hands over his pants. Michael and Yurick left through the hidden exit toward the sleeping quarters, the other rooms, and Jean-Claude hid a small and graceful yawn behind his hand, planting hands on his hips.

"He isn't going to be able to do it, is he?" He asked, as if to no one. But there a blond topped figure half nightmare, half blessed dream walked from the shadows he'd been apparently hiding in, Asher in all his handsome angelic beauty and garish disfigurement came out, going to wrap arms around his black haired partner's shoulders, sighing a little as he leaned his chin down on that so familiar shoulder.

"It is hard to say, the boy is..enigme...a mystery. But no, I do not think he can." Asher said with a sigh, leaning in against Jean-Claude as the black haired vampire closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. If Michael couldn't fight back, he would never learn. He had known just what Yurick would choose, when given the choice he had been. Jean-Claude had given up on the brown haired vampire ever working in guilty pleasures for him, and had plans for him to work somewhere else, somewhere more to his tastes, because then he would get good work out of him. But he really didn't want to get personally involved with the boy's well being, the little Asian shape shifter's own personal problems with weakness.

Michael pulled Yurick down the hall, laughing happily to himself the whole way. He had a new motivation for bitting back against the older shape shifters, and he was determined not to lose one of his best friends. It was one of the worst things he could think of. Without them...he just wouldn't be himself anymore. There was no thought beyond that, no 'what would I do..?' because it wasn't an option in his mind. There was no way he was going to let that happen, and there was simply no allowance in his head for 'what if?' it simply was not, and could not happen. Firm and concrete as the building they were walking under.

"Well, ya have ta go ta bed now, don'cha? Let's go ta your room. An I swear I'll be there when ya wake up. I'm so tired I don't think I'll even wake up before ya do." michael said, giggling to himself as he pulled open Yurick's bedroom door, slipping in to run over on his bare feet, jump on the bed before even taking off his soiled costume. Yurick sighed, putting a hand to his forehead a moment before looking up, giving michael that look that said he would do almost anything for the boy. Ooh, he might not like it, but he would. Within reason.

"What am I going to do with you, little street urchin?" Yurick asked, going over to the bed to turn michael around as if he were a toddler trying to get into the bath with his clothes on, fiddling with the catch on his costume, the black painted zipper hidden under the extra fold of fabric in the back as he unzipped it. He knew the sun was coming soon, and they had little time, if any at all for any sort of extra play. On top of that, Yurick wasn't actually in a mood for much anything. Though, knowing michael the boy would probably go all melty simply from having Yurick take his clothes off, even though he was being very business-like about it.

"Yuri...?" and that was all the hint that Yurick needed, rolling his eyes as if michael were about to ask for yet more candy, when he'd already had a handful, and was about to go to bed. He moved away as the zipper hit the stop at the bottom, going to the other side of the bed to start pulling his own clothes off.

"Yeah, Mikey?" he asked, as if the use of special nick name weren't indication enough. He turned to look at the Asian boy, who was crawling across the bed, costume kicked off his feet as he did it, as if the movements couldn't have possibly made him wobble or slip. He used that odd feline gracefulness that made you think 'cat' and never 'human.' Humans crawled clumsily. Awkwardly. Never as if they had muscles and joints in places they weren't supposed to. And michael certainly did have muscles and joints in extra places. He'd proven it time and time again, bending nearly in two, and sometimes having such terrible nightmares he twisted himself up as if he were trying to fit in an eggshell. The ways the boy could move...

Yurick suddenly shook his head, tearing his chocolate brown eyes from piercing husky blues, giving a little huffy breath out. "You're not going to win this time, Mikey. It's too close to sunrise, and I simply can't. I doubt having me slump over dead on top of you would be a terribly fun experience." he actually blushed, borrowed blood leaking up into his cheeks in a way that made michael laugh, a tone that didn't fit the so young looking boy. He was fifteen, steadily on his way to sixteen; just a couple months to go; And he still looked like he was twelve. Yurick didn't care, he knew how old michael was, and he had never thought of him as a child, but it was still unnerving, that low masculine chuckle that made you absolutely sure that they weren't thinking anything tame, and surely nothing wholesome.

"Aww..poo. You forget, Yuri..there are many more positions that have nothing to do with you being on top." he fairly purred as he talked, low, slow, and in a voice deeper than he usually spoke. It was the depth that made Yurick look at him again, a little bit of surprise on his face as he did it, eyebrows raising. Michael was actually using his animals to make him more grown up, more serious; More dominant. He wanted to push Yurick down, watch his face as he came, only seconds before the sun stole him away. He wanted to send him off to sleep with pleasure ridding him, and he would be damned if the brown haired vampire took it from him tonight.

"I'm not an easy person to top, Michael." Yurick said, tossing his shirt away from himself, stepping away from his pants as he did it, hands going to his hips. The boy had always had little fits where he wanted to be in charge, but his want usually went away after a couple minutes, some small thing satisfying his need to push and control, then he was all blushing and whispering and squirming again. Yurick raised an eyebrow as michael planted hands on the edge of the bed, gripping as he drew his knees, his legs out from under him in one smooth wave through his arms, feet going to the floor in a graceful slide and jump, stalking forward, and even though he was so small, the look on his face made him look so much darker, so much older. This michael...you would never doubt his age. This michael was made not for Love making, but for fucking. This michael Yurick liked quite a lot.

"Maybe for someone who cares." Michael said in a teasing tone, going to run barely there hands over his male best friend's hips, fingers dancing about the bones before he stopped suddenly, gripping at him as he pulled him in tight, fingernails digging in against his flesh until he felt that soft push, the feeling of his little nails piercing the skin ever so slightly, going on tip toes to press his mouth roughly in against Yurick's lips, bitting in against the blond vampire's bottom lip, pulling it away from him before letting go, the fleshy little bit going back into place with a loud pop sound, a tiny trickle of blood running from the corner of Yurick's mouth, and he brought a hand up, brushing the back of it over his mouth before he looked down, giving michael raised eyebrows and slightly wide eyes.

"Fangs Mikey? Are you satisfied now..?" he asked, voice a little shaky, but michael answered with a chuckle that clearly said 'you poor, poor boy..' as he leaned in, moving hands to Yurick's shoulders in one swift and liquid movement, planting feet in against Yurick's slightly bloodied hips, curling his toes around those bones as he moved, hauling himself up and then over Yurick's shoulders so fast that the sudden shifting of weight carried him back to hit on the floor, a small wincing of pain in his face as he scrunched up his eyes then cracked them open, looking up at michael's devilishly grinning face. Yurick wasn't that long dead yet, so he could move pretty fast, but he was just as fast as michael, and the brown haired vampire had certainly not been expecting that.

"Satisfied? You misunderstand me, Yurick. Let me explain." he moved, settling down against the brown haired vampire as he usually did when he was on top, sitting with his hands folded in his lap as he did it, toes touching the floor, and Yurick relaxed, a so indulging smile on his face as he looked up at the so calm and smiling Asian. Michael had a smug look on his face, eyes partially closed as if he had already won, and Yurick just didn't know it yet.

Suddenly michael's face moved into a look of mischievous glee and he moved as if he would hit Yurick in the face, and the movement, the intent made the vampire's eyes go wide, hands going up to protect his face as his heart suddenly raced. But nothing happened. There was a weight against his arms, and suddenly little vice-like hands wrapped around his wrists, forcing them down against the floor as legs gripped in around his ribs. His hands stung from the impact and he groaned, the feeling in his chest something like being squeezed by a boa, he thought as he opened his eyes again.

"See, I'm not playing games. You pulled my hair earlier, and you KNOW how that gets me. Then you just...cast it off, as if it meant nothing, didn't matter. Well, I don't want to go to bed without my treat." Michael glared down at Yurick from so close, looking out through his hair, from under his eyebrows as a smile twisted his lips. It made him look like the demon you met at your bedroom window, who would whisper so sweet things, if only you would let him in, ooh how much fun you would have...and you knew some of it would hurt. But then...would it be so bad?

Yurick looked up into that face, and he knew michael wouldn't be satisfied with a little display. Ooh what a monster he had created! So horny he could hardly stand to be without some shared touch for a day, let alone simply once. And all the time running off with cute little things he'd met, spent a day talking to at the arcade or something else. Michael didn't off and have sex with just anyone who would have him, he made sure he knew them a bit first, but it never had anything to do with love. He wanted to feel, and give feeling, share that intoxication with others. It was as if he were truly a fairy, and his little bit of magic only worked if he had sex with someone. When Yurick was busy, or otherwise unavailable, and the mood struck him, he would run off and find a playmate. And that was what he called them. Friends when they weren't fucking, playmates when they were. Yurick was the exception. No matter what they did, they were friends. Best friends. The thought made him smirk up at the boy in question, as if he had done something cute.

It was not the reaction michael wanted, and it made him growl low in his throat, pull Yurick's hands down behind his back until he had to arch his back to keep from having them pulled too far, michael being quite forceful in the action as he let himself slip off and down between Yurick's legs, watching as he moved to curl up on himself; But backward.

"I'm not being adorable, Yuri. That'll only get you in more trouble." he said with a grin as he went to lay his cheek on the brown vampire's thigh, staring at that so close bundle just under Yurick's still present underwear. In one swift motion he was standing, both wrists in one hand as he tore the clothes away, content that he could replace them. But he didn't mention it then. It would have ruined the effect. With a devious giggle michael moved, watching as that hard length bobbed, twitching for him, and he knew he was doing something right.

"You're being a lot meaner than normal, Mikey. Lay off the catnip, huh?" Yurick said, voice breathy as he shivered. It wasn't all that cold, but he suddenly felt as though there should have been heat on somewhere, curling his toes as he felt little pointy teeth bitting hard up his thigh, tracing over the sensitive skin as warm little lips made a pass so close to that terribly and obviously neglected area. Yurick's head went back, imagining he could see those little teeth pressing into his skin, see the little teeth marks littering his flesh. They burned, but it felt good, like a line of hard hot kisses over his leg.

"If I were mean, would I do this?" Michael asked, suddenly moving to bite, nibble swiftly with those deft and seemingly careless movements, letting teeth grate, press, and graze over the so soft skin just below that hardness, suckling at it a moment before he let out a heavy sigh, sending hot breath over the freshly whetted skin with a happy giggle as he stuck his tongue out, licking hard, slow, and firm up Yurick's hard length, stopping to press and wriggle the tip of his tongue in that little dip at the tip, a look of sheer devilish delight on his face at the squirming it induced in his captive prey, keeping Yurick's wrists tight in his own as he did it, making sure he couldn't get away, couldn't move any more than the Asian shape shifter wanted him to.

"Yes, yes you would.." Yurick panted, closing his eyes with a look of pleasured pain on his face, his shoulders getting steadily more stiff in the odd position, but he didn't ask Michael to stop. He actually wished the Asian shifter had more hands, or some thing better. He hadn't thought michael would be quite this cruel, not without being told how first. It was like he said before, as if he didn't care. But he knew the boy did, knew he wasn't being mean for the cruelty of the thing. It sounded mushy and stupid when he thought it, but Yurick was convinced michael was just doing what he thought he needed to get what he wanted, and he certainly wasn't going to complain.

"I never been on top before, so if this is uncomfortable, ya make sure ta moan real loud an let me know, kay?" Michael asked with a sly grin on his face, knowing full well that one was suppose to really prepare for what he was about to do, but he knew it would just spin Yurick's head around, tickle him beyond belief.

Michael was average sized for his age, but not his height, or his race. So saying it hurt when he moved, pressing up and into that waiting opening until he couldn't press any deeper, well..it was a great understatement. Yurick groaned, a look of pained pleasure pressing over his features as he pulled at his arms, michael using the pulling to press himself closer, which in turn only made the writhing wriggling worse, until both males were just one big heap of squirming limbs and pressing body parts.

Michael let go of Yurick's wrists at some point, hands going to move the brown haired vampire's legs up, toes reaching and pointing for the ceiling as he pressed into him over and over again, the sound of panting, moaning, labored breath and skin hitting in against skin made the room echo with it, the press of sunrise making Yurick gasp, but that only brought him faster, groaning into the expanse of his room, michael going with him, that odd wriggling feeling around him for the first time, making him stop, panting and out of breath with a look of wonder of his face, letting Yurick relax down against the floor. There were bites, hickeys, bruises littering the vampire's hips and chest; Michael really hadn't been careful, and the sensation for the first time...well, it was quite different than other things, and he was delighted with those sensations.

Yurick blinked, trying to catch his breath, throat clicking and dry as he pushed himself up on elbows,a weary pleasured grin on his face as he moved to brush hair out of michael's moist and flushed face. "Like fucking an evil man sized bunny rabbit, you are." he said, sounding breathy with each word he managed to get out. But that press of sunrise was so close to his skin, he could feel it, and he laid back out on the floor, arms wrapping around his chest with michael pressed still so far inside him, an entirely different look of pain on his face, and michael knew that look.

"Goodnight, Yurick." he whispered, moving to press into him again, determined he would send the vampire away with more than just pain. Yurick gasped, too soon after their last act, so sensitive, and the sun stole him away with a moan on his lips, his soul..his life force..whatever it was that drove him leaving him nothing but an empty cooling thing as he went limp, looking very much asleep, but michael knew better. He wasn't old enough to be able to have that semblance of living during the day. He was more or less a glorified corpse.

Michael pulled out, away, shuddering a little with it as he licked his lips. Sleeping next to Yurick, he could do. But he didn't want to be naked and it was a bit unnerving to him. He got up, moving to pick the larger person up, but it wasn't that hard...you just had to learn how to balance, and off you were.

Michael put Yurick on the bed, going about fetching pajamas from the vampire's wardrobe, slipping them on him before he got his own on, a pair he kept tucked under Yurick's bed. He would be asleep before the vampire's body went cold, and that was good enough for him. Go to sleep holding him, wake up being held. It was what he usually did, and he supposed it was a little odd that he had to go about dressing him sometimes, and when Yurick asked him why he bothered, it had made him squirm, an odd feeling in his stomach. Truth be told, he knew Yurick was more than a dead thing, knew that he wasn't going to rot or smell during the day, but it was still odd, feeling that loose cold skin, none of that faint pulsing from a heart beat, not even the movement or noise of breathing. It was just creepy.

But michael didn't want to sleep alone now that he was used to it. Being alone sounded like one of the worst things ever, now that he actually had someone to fill the bed next to him. If Yurick left, he wasn't sure what he would do.

Crawling in bed next to the unconscious vampire, he pulled the covers up over them, quickly snuggling in against that weight, the slowly fading heat, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure what he would feel if Yurick left. He knew something would be different though. Somehow, having one of his best friends leave..he just didn't think he'd be as happy anymore. They were his courage, his confidants. They were what kept him going without turning into a gibbering pile of...well, slimy, mushy, blushing useless flesh. Michael didn't think he'd be able to survive without his friends. But he was determined to keep them, even if it meant standing up to people whom he never thought he could.

"You'll see, I'll be good..you won't have to leave.." Michael snuggled in against the pillows, wrapping arms around Yurick. To anyone who was looking, h would look like he were snuggling up with a boyfriend, or something else..but really..michael didn't see him that way. He was a friend, and michael treasured them more than anything else in the world.

He started falling asleep, a dream about chasing puppies down a long dark corridor, but they were being eaten by shadows, gobbled up before he could protect them, and there was odd laughter that sounded like his own, drunken and happy; as if he were being tickled.


	13. Chapter 13 Break Me

"I thought you were going to be there when I woke up, Mikey." Yurick said, shaking his head as the Asian shifter jumped down from his sitting place on the railing around the smallest ring of the Circus Of The Damned, having just finished practicing for the next showing; Testing the various ropes and bars to make sure they were all tight, running through it again before he had to go about it. As it was he'd found a bolt that was nearly completely stripped on one of his more central beams. He'd apparently been working it too hard, and it had wobbled so terribly he had to stop, and see what was going on.

Michael hopped down from the railing, stretching as he took the white wrappings from his hands, the ones from his feet already slung over one shoulder. "Come on Yurick, ya sleep forever. Longer than I do. An I had shit ta do, ya know. An now I gotta go ta the store down the road before they're closed. I'd ask ya ta come, but naawww..yer 'lergic ta sunlight." Michael said with a snicker, tossing the stripped bolt up in the air to catch as he waltzed over to the brown haired vampire, easy as you please with that so mischievous smile plastered over his face. He loved irritating Yurick, pushing his little buttons. One of them happened to be saying he was going to do something, then not just because he got bored.

"Michael, you are one of the most impatient people on the planet. Your side of the bed was hardly cool by the time I woke up." Yurick shook his head, sighing a little, but there as that hint of a smile around the corners of his mouth, and Michael knew he wasn't actually in any trouble.

"Well, you have fun tidying around the Circus, I'm going to go get this part. If I don't, then there won't be any Michelle tonight for the poor people. Not that I'd mind. Those screaming girls make my ears want to bleed." Michael rolled his eyes, going to walk past Yurick to go out. He didn't mind wearing his costume outfit now, not really realizing that it was skin tight. It was like it wasn't there, and sometimes he actually forgot he was wearing it. He didn't much feel like changing, seeing as he would just be in on a show in an hour's time at any rate.

"I'm gonna need two dollars though. Could you pleeeeaaase?" Michael gave Yurick those wide blue eyes, shiny and doll-like in his baby featured face, holding hands under his chin to complete the effect. Yurick rolled his eyes again, digging in a front pocket. "You need to learn to bring money up for these little trips." The brown haired vampire said, handing over a five dollar bill.

"Yeah yeah. An stick it where, smarty?" Michael said, holding his hands out at his sides as he gave a little slow twirl. And it was true..there weren't any places to put things on the costume. Well...no where that you'd want to keep money.

Yurick laughed, and Michael gave a little wave, heading out of the tend and toward the front doors as he passed by several people cleaning up along the stalls and attractions, tidying up and setting things in place for the rush of people who would be coming in just as the Circus opened up. Opening time was always the busiest, people rushing in to see the newly awakened vampires, wanting to see things as soon as the sun set completely. As if that time alone was specifically special to the Circus and it's denizens. Michael thought it was silly himself, but who was he to judge? He ran around waiting for sunset too, so he could play animal jungle boy, jumping around in a multicolored indoors tent.

With a few venomous glares from some of the many people who rather disliked what Michael was, he headed out the doors, giving a happy little hop as he went down the tiny bit of stairs leading away from the front of the building, padding barefoot across the sidewalk, hands up, fingers laced behind his head as he went, humming a song along in his head as he smiled. He liked being able to simply wander around how he pleased. It was kind of comforting in the heat to be barely wearing anything at all, and if people saw him, they knew he was from the circus at any rate. It was fantastical. The last thought made Michael snort a little with laughter. "Fantastical..Ooh, I am the master of the English fuckin language." he murmured to himself, going to dance around a corner as a pair of kissing teens nearly ran him down, apparently running on autopilot while they concentrated on eating each other's faces.

"Yeah, thanks! I like being mowed down by piles of I'M ONLY SIXTEEN, HOW COULD I BE PREGNANT!?" Michael shouted at them before wrinkling his nose, sticking his tongue out at the boy's rather quick and venomous hand gesture.

"Ooohhh..can I get that in writing?" he said, wriggling eyebrows at the boy before he started toward him, the girl scowling as she grabbed onto her boyfriend's shirt to tug him away, giving Michael the most hateful stare she could muster.

"Yeah yeah, ya ain't that tough, bein drug around by your hoover- I mean girlfriend." Michael murmured to himself, going to roll his eyes and walk again. He didn't like being mowed down on the sidewalk of all things, just because he was 'too small' to be noticed. As it was, he was only four feet tall, eighty-two pounds, and looked like he was twelve. Not really all that fun to be, but it got him the best tips. Cute little 'kid' going around doing things you wouldn't want anyone you loved doing. Well okay, maybe not, but it was still pretty scary looking stuff.

He rounded on the hardware store, pushing in without a single glance around as he walked in and to the counters, the balding man there smiling down at him. The man was a giant as far as Michael was concerned. "Heeeyyy Arnie. I need one of these." Michael said, handing over the bit of metal as the man whistled, looking it over as he adjusted his glasses. "What're you doing in there, killing hippos with the pipes?" the man said, shaking his head as he went to fetch the replacement, Michael going to hop up onto the counter, kicking his feet over the side.

The man came back with the replacement bolt, holding his hand out for the money he knew Michael had. They exchanged goods often enough that each of them knew pretty much how much things were, and that Michael had the money for it. Arnie always commented on him using the beams for the oddest things, and Michael laughed, took his hardware and left.

"You ought to get these welded, you know. Have someone come in and fix them up the same as play ground equipment. It'll last longer, and you won't have to worry about stripping the bolts anymore." Arnie suggested, giving Michael a little black plastic bag with tiny hand holes. He held them open for Michael to put his hand through, used to the gesture. It had taken him a while to get used to Michael looking like a child, with the mouth he had on him, and what he did, but it was only too normal to him now.

Michael went to slide off the counter, shrugging his shoulders. "Not my stuff, not my call. It's like renting space, Arne. I get to use it, but it sure as hell ain't mine." Though he did like the idea, thinking about suggesting it to Jean-Claude later. As it was, he had to get his ass back and put the rigging back together. It was sort of...hanging loose, and he suddenly had a flash of it falling on some unknowing person. "Shit...should'a put up signs or something..pinned the flap shut. See ya, Arnie." he said turning on his heel with a little wave of his hand, the man chuckling behind him. He always heard half a thought from the boy, like he simply could't think a whole idea just in his head, as if it simply spilled out, and it made him all the more amused.

Michael didn't notice the so entertained look on the aging man's face as he hurried out of the shop, walking fast down the street, a thumbnail going to his mouth as he thought about it. He was going to be in so much trouble if anything happened to hurt someone. As it was he'd done enough to en debt himself to Jean-Claude an extra two years, being as careless as he was.

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, foot planting firmly down in a pile of broken glass, making him yip and fall straight down on his ass, whimpering a bit as he scooted to the nearest building corner, using it to help himself up and off the ground, looking around for somewhere to dig the bits out of his foot. Sure, if he let himself heal they would push out eventually, but he didn't have a whole day to spend in wriggly pain while his body worked glass out of his foot. "Damnit..if I ruined a full day's showings just because I was worried about something else, I'm gonna be so fuckin screwed.." he murmured to himself, looking around for a quick place to get the little bits out, spotting a crate off inside the side alley, hopping to it as he went, being very careful not to plant his other foot in something shiny and pointy.

"Damn damn damn..GODS..this fuckin stings." he groaned to himself, going to pluck the bits out. Michael enjoyed pain just as much as the next gay masochist, but not so much when he did it to himself. It was like trying to tickle yourself; Just not as fun.

A shadow passed over where he was trying to work, and he sighed, moving so he could be in the light again, pulling a rather long bit from his foot with a hiss. The shadow moved in his way again, and another one blocked off the rest of the light.

"Ooh come on. Hey, whoever ya are, I'm back here, an you're kinda in my light." he said in an irritated tone, actually clenching his jaw a bit when the owners of the shadows didn't move. He looked up, face a mask of pure irritation before it fell. Two of the worst bullies he'd ever had to deal with stood in the head of the alley, looking right at him, looking like they had been following him, not at all surprised by the blood and glass coating the bottom of his foot.

"Uuhhh..Hi there Harvy, Curtis. Can I help ya?" He raised eyebrows at them. It was too soon after the last time for Harvy to have come back to hurt him again, he usually waited a couple days. Especially when he had been caught in the act. That should have earned him an entire week.

Harvy moved, grinning at him as he did it, so fast Michael had time enough to be surprised before he was lifted under the arms, shoved against the nearest brick wall with a crack of his head on the red squares. His head swam, and he had a moment where his head came forward, a feeling of weightlessness before a thick pressure started at the back of his head. "Sh-shit..what the fuck.." he murmured, and he heard crunching, pulling his head up to look in the direction the sound had come from, eye level with Curtis' green eyes. That wasn't right.He looked down, seeing his feet still hanging above the ground, hands under his arms pinning him up and against the wall, and his eyes followed up, an odd warm trickling going across the back of his neck as he went to wipe at it.

He was suddenly thrown across the alley, slamming into the side of a dumpster, the word swimming with streamers of color as he slumped to the ground, whimpering. He wasn't sure if it felt good, or if it hurt. Harvy wasn't saying anything, and that bothered him. The large man always said SOMETHING. Yelled at him, told him why he was angry, what he had done wrong, all sorts of things. But he was being terribly silent, and Michael couldn't understand why. A hand in his hair pulled him up, and he felt a sudden hot slice across his belly, a wave of cold as he looked down, blood covered shining knife in Harvy's hand, a long gash going across his mid section. It wasn't enough to tear him open, but it stung worse than anything he had ever felt, and he knew he didn't like it. Another swipe caught him on the hip, and he yelped, squealing as he started kicking his feet, realizing he couldn't feel them.

"L-let me down! LET ME DOWN!!" he screamed, going to claw at the hand in his hair, but the other arm came clamping down on his throat, squeezing so he couldn't make a noise, barely pulling any air at all. His head throbbed, and he panicked, going to dig hands up and into the arm attached to the hand in his hair, digging, tiny fingers pressing over bone as he did it, but the hand moved away before he could break the bone, dropping him so he fell into a sick heap on the ground. A sudden kick flew out of no where, and he in turn flew again, cracking against the opposite wall, his elbow striking first, making him cry out again, a high and piteous noise that seemed to ring in his ears. Or maybe that was his head hitting the wall again? He wasn't sure. His whole arm went numb and he whimpered, panting as he tried to scramble up, the grinding of glass into his foot making him fall immediately, and he started to cry, trying to use his other foot to stand up, limping a little with just the toes of his other foot on the ground.

He ended up pushing himself to the back of the alley, finding there was no exit; a dead end. Michael stopped, eyes wide as he looked up, trying to see if it was low enough to jump, but the smooth concrete surface rose far too high for him to jump, towering over him as if it were mocking him. He spun at a crunching noise and went crashing to the ground again, a thick wave of nausea pushing in his head, making his eyes hurt like they would pop out, rolling over to vomit into the dirty ground seconds before a voice rang in his head.

"Well, isn't this just poetic. A dead end for your end. Michael, I couldn't have picked a better place for this." Harvy said, all sickly grinning, stepping forward to put hands on his hips as Curtis came up, hauling Michael to his feet and making him stand, making that sore foot sting with a cold pain, tears spreading down his face as he clung to his numb arm, whimpering, sniffling, making him look very much the child, if not a filthy and bloodied one. It hurt to breathe, and it felt like his whole chest was a bruise, down to his heart, as if the simple beating of the thing hurt him. He was breathing too fast, and a hand clamped over his mouth the second he took a deep breath, readying himself for an almighty shriek.

"No no no pretty, can't have you doing that. See, we don't want anyone coming until we're finished." Curtis said, moving to brush Michael's hair out of his eyes as if he were comforting. One thing that creeped Michael out more than anything, was that Curtis gave him the freakiest looks while he hurt him. Like he was trying to comfort him while he did it.

"L-lemmie go..I didn't tell nobody. I ain't gonna tell, just let me go.." Michael whimpered, trying to pull away, but moving hurt his stomach and all sorts of places he would swear they hadn't hurt him yet. He was shoved hard to the ground, Harvy suddenly stamping down on his shin, crunching it as he dove down to cover Michael's mouth, the Asian shifter's eyes going wide as tears spilled up and out of them, breath caught in his throat before he let out the loudest shriek of pain he could muster, muffled by the thick hand on his mouth.

"No, you didn't have to tell. That vamp friend of yours did it for you. Do you know how much it hurts to have your throat ripped out, left to heal 'if you can' ?" Harvy said, words so full of heated venom, even as he spoke the last three words, thick in Jean-Claude's French accent.

Michael panted, trying to calm himself so he could breathe, his nose going little to give him as much air as his body thought it needed. He was seeing floating black spots here and there, and the sickness screaming in his head, the pain all over, begged him to just let himself pass out, but he so didn't want to do that with the two insane werewolves towering over him. He squirmed, and the hand moved, gripping at his throat as Curtis bent down, looking down over Michael as Harvy shifted, the feel of fingernails in his skin making him squirm. He heard the odd noises, Curtis moving to kneel by them as he lifted the blood stained knife from before, and Michael started squirming in earnest, the blade shining in the falling moonlight.

"We're gonna play a game, Pretty." Curtis said in a sickeningly soft tone, cutting the font of Michael's costume away with the razor sharp blade, the so tight fabric peeling itself away from him as the mossy haired werewolf cut at the fabric, pressing hard enough that it cut at him too, blood spilling out and over him.

"We're going to see how long it takes you to die." He said, and Michael shrieked, or tried to, unable to let out breath enough. His head was swimming, and he felt suddenly warm and fuzzy above that hand in his neck, and Harvy must have seen something, because he let go, grinning. "Oops, turned a little blue in the lips there." he said, ready to plant a hand over Michael's mouth again.

"It wouldn't do to have you die just to keep you quiet, now would it?" He asked, turning his head to the side as Curtis shoved the blade into Michael's stomach, to the hilt, shoving a hand over the Asian boy's mouth as he went to scream, eyes wide again. His whole body shook and shuddered with the sensation as Curtis pulled the blade out again, going to do something he thought would probably keep him alive longer, and still hurt like hell; Shoving the blade into Michael's thigh, the metal scraping and bitting against bone as he did it, Michael's leg kicking as a reflex, only serving to hurt him more, tear the skin and spill blood faster from the new wound. He'd hit an artery, blood pumping with Michael's racing heart to eagerly push from his body, as if it were trying to escape the pain. Or that was what he thought, and he would have giggled at the image, if he wasn't so occupied with crying and shrieking under the beefy hand against his lips.

He felt odd, light, detached, as if he could have been sipping tea and talking to stuffed animals while they did it. He barely noticed as Curtis and Harvy turned at once, a faint ringing in his ears telling him he'd gone deaf for a moment, turning his head where they were looking, and it was as if his vision was slower than the turning of his head, like the dramatic camera work when everything is all slow and blurred, but the sound is just as fast as it should be. Curtis and Harvy shot to their feet, running as if the devil was chasing them, a group of teens gathered at the mouth of the alley, pointing in as one girl stood off to the side, shouting with her hands to either side of her mouth, drawing a great crowd. A girl and a boy from the first group of teens rushed in as Curtis and Harvy dashed off and away, the people standing there little more than tissue paper to the two of them.

The two teens knelt by Michael, the girl putting hands to her face, and still Michael couldn't hear. Tears welled up in her eyes, and he tried to tell her not to cry on top of him, but his throat wasn't working right, and it hurt to swallow. The boy ripped his shirt off, pressing it over the front of Michael, and he hissed, pain slashing out across his belly. He tried to push him away, but the girl grabbed his hands. What was their problem? They were hurting him more, didn't they know that? At least, that was how Michael saw it. He didn't like the feeling of the shirt over his stomach, as if he had the cloth rubbing hard and rough against the skin, but he wasn't sure that was it exactly. He didn't know what was going on, his head was swimming, and he was starting to see little floating silver things, like the germs you see in water and stuff under a microscope.

"St-stop.." he whined, trying to kick his feet, but they just bicycled a little, ever so slowly until someone came and grabbed at his feet, making him stay still. Pain seared out across his leg, the sound of bones rubbing and grinding together coming to him as he felt it, wailing as tears rushed hot and heavy out of his eyes again, and the girl started petting his head, making him want to wriggle away, but he only managed a small roll to the right before someone pressed down on his shoulders. He was small, and hurt, but he was still stronger than normal, and the panic was building up hot and hard in his stomach, until he started begging, whimpering, pleading. He felt cold, and light, and sick, and even as the feeling of wanting to vomit crawled up into his throat, he felt somehow happy. Everything was going away, and he felt much better.

It made him lie back, relax enough that the arms around his legs, the hands on his shoulders lifted a bit. He smiled, a dreamy look on his face as he felt an odd light swirling in his head, sighing. Breathing hurt still, but it as dim. As if he were at one end of a tunnel, his body at the other, and he felt things only distantly.

"The ambulance is coming! Oh god...Oh god...there's so much blood! Jordan, Jordan is he alright??" A high frantic female voice came dimly, and he frowned a little at it. Her voice bothered him, made that so happy floating not quite as happy as it had been. He liked the petting in his hair though, and if his throat hadn't hurt so terribly, he would have purred. But he settled for just turning his head a bit to glare at the shrieking girl, taking a breath to tell her to stop it, but his air went out in a sigh instead, as if he were far too unmotivated for words.

"He's dying, Hanna! I don't know what else I can do. First aid doesn't cover this kind of stuff, and we didn't bring anything." the boy leaning on his stomach said, and Michael's brows knitted together. Dying? He couldn't be. He felt too good to be dying. That was just silly.

But even as he sighed again, head turning as he let darkness creep over him, he knew it was true. But it felt so good...


	14. Chapter 14 Save Me

"What did you tell the so persistent reporter?" Jean-Claude's voice was faint and fading, Michael trying to open his eyes to get a glimpse of the room he was in, voices echoing around him. Scents fading in and out, glimpses of faces over him; Yurick being quite a constant. Nathaniel and Jason had been there a few times, Anita once that Michael could remember, but he kept feeling like he was a leaf cast in a stream of warm swirling water. He wasn't quite sure where he was, or what he was doing there anymore, but it was so terribly comforting..so pleasing. He knew he was probably dreaming the few times he felt lips on his forehead, and at one point cold splashes on his cheeks, but one could never be sure when they weren't even sure if they were awake or not.

"You said he's supposed to be getting better. Why isn't he getting better??" Ezzy's high female voice cut through to him at one point, and he winced, the voice making his head hurt, and the flinching hurt him all down from his head, made him feel sick, as if his skull were sliding apart. He tried to curl up, and pain lanced through his stomach, making him let out a pathetic mewling, scrunching his eyes up as his hands clenched in the bedsheets. Hands. There were suddenly hands on his arms, and odd stirrings...something..stuff in his skin that wasn't supposed to be there. He was hungry, and he didn't like it.

"L-leggo..leggo 'a me!" he wasn't restrained, and he was happy for it the moment the hands came away, as if they just suddenly weren't there. A smooth and cultured French voice slid through the room, and it felt like silk with razors hidden behind. Something soft and stinging at the same time.

"Let him hurt himself. He was stupid enough to have them do this much, let him deal with it on his own time." Jean-Claude did not sound happy at all, and as Michael rolled off the bed, hit the floor...he felt the sting of heavy disappointment in the man. He hurt, and he felt like he was going to vomit everything from inside him; His organs, the food he hadn't had in...what...days? He wasn't sure. His world was sliding around as if it were balanced on a ball and just barely keeping up. He dipped, head pressing to the floor on top of his hands, making him whimper. Every movement sent some new and sharp pain though his body, giving that reaction he'd always had from such things. He felt shamed, hurt, bled, and stupid. He'd just let them kill him. That's what he had done, hadn't he? All because he couldn't say no. Because he couldn't stand up for himself, or at least run. Running would have been far better than sticking around, wouldn't it?

He raised his face up, thick with the blush that always spread; The tell-tale signs that he wasn't feeling all that bad. He looked across the bed at Jean-Claude, at Ezzy. He smelled Yurick in the room, but he couldn't see him. Where was his other friend?

"Why isn't he here...?" Fear and cold sense of loss spread out through his body, settling hard in his stomach like a rock that pressed against all the rest of his body, tearing and ripping at him. He didn't want to believe that they had really sent his friend away, that they had taken one of his few comforts. But...Yurick wouldn't have left him.

The look on Jean-Claude's face was enough, and he sobbed, the feeling ripping through his stomach, the pain of the muscles sliding when they still weren't ready sent a hot thick peel of illness up through him, set his jaw and made him slap hands to the floor, hang his head as he lost the nonexistent contents of his stomach. He couldn't feel his body, not really..he felt like he was going to float away, and it was good. Until a cool hand pressed to the back of his neck, suddenly snapping him back to reality and he snapped, whirling to smack the hand away with the back of his own. The contact stung out through his hand and arm, and he paid it no mind. Jean-Claude gave him a stern and angry look, snatching at his hands before yanking him up off the floor. The vampire was much taller than Michael thought he would ever be, and it made his feet dangle off the floor, kicking as if that would bring him closer to the solid surface.

The black haired vampire pulled him up and shook him, one great heave as if he were shaking out a rug, and it tugged muscles again, strained things he never thought could hurt so bad. Whimpering he was lowered back to the bed, but just as he was settling a hand came across his face to the sound of Ezzy's angry cry, "Stop it!" But Jean-Claude looked at her, just once. But whatever was on his face was nothing she wanted to argue with, and she fell silent again. "Get out of the room if you can't handle it. He isn't human, he's barely even a lycanthrope. His mind doesn't work like yours, and he needs this." he very nearly growled, midnight blue eyes shining down at Michael with an intensity he would have called flame, if it weren't so deathly cold.

That energy spread out through the room, tickling and prickling along his skin like ice water, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Ezzy gave a gasp and took a step forward, but she was instantly met with that so chilling blue gaze, and stopped as her face went blank and pleasant as white canvas. "Leave now." Jean-Claude told her, and she turned to head to the door, open it and walk out without another word.

With long strides the black haired demon walked over and locked it, headed back to Michael with that so determined and angry look in his eyes. The pale boy was squirming by now, that nipping burning cold making him whimper and bite at the corner of his lip. He was loving, and hating it, wanted to run and sit up to beg for more. It was sick, and even he knew it. But he still wanted it. Still felt like he needed it. He was so screwed.

Jean-Claude reached out, pressing a hand to his already closed stomach wound, dug fingers into it as Michael cried out, the pain actually making him sick again. "S-stop!!" He choked on the word as his eyes scrunched closed, doing nothing to stop the tears from jumping to them, spreading out and pouring over his cheeks. It was the worst thing he had ever felt. Like layers and layers of himself were suddenly ripping, tearing, a hot sick stabbing and burning that pushed; it seemed; out of him and into the ground, as if he extended further than he really could. The pain was bigger than his body, and for a moment he was awash in a noiseless sea of painful burning red, colors exploding behind his eyelids, and then it was gone. He lay panting, breathless, sick and dizzy, but Jean-Claude didn't leave him alone.

A pale pianist's hand shot out, grabbing him by the jaw and squeezing. It hurt like the bones were grinding together, and he squeezed one eye open, pain and plea quite clear on his face. But the so cold and unamused look on Jean-Claude's face made him stop the whimper in his throat, made him catch his breath. He looked like he simply didn't care. None of it. The pain, the wounds, none of the things he'd gone through meant anything. Even the pain he was putting him through right now...none of it touched him. He could have been reading boring papers, looking over documents that had already been addressed. And that was the look on his face; Firm finality. Michael had been told what would happen if he let them hurt him, and he knew where Yurick was. He also knew that being Jean-Claude's pet wasn't going to be as easy, or fun as he thought it would.

"Y-ya sent him away..." He murmured through the vice-like hold on his chin, seconds before the hand moved away only to strike out again, hit him across the face in a way that made him actually scream. Pain and panic blossomed through his body, the pain overriding it all as it exploded through his head, making him dizzy and slightly unconscious for a moment. He had a notion of floating, and then he was quite firmly back in his body, withing and crying out, everything echoing each other, one movement feeding into the rest in an endless loop that threatened to claim him forever. But with time the movements died down and he stopped moving. He was reduced to sniffles and whimpers, tears sliding from his mostly closed husky blue eyes.

"I told you I was going to send him away. I told you this, and still you let them hurt you. Did you think at all about what I had said before letting them try to tear into you like a pack of wild dogs? Did you think at all about it, or did you simply assume I would not? Hear this, and keep it in that thick animal brain of yours." Jean-Claude looked angry, breaking that so cool mask he held as he leaned in, voice smooth and full of deadly poison, a searing pain that licked down Michael's throat and hit his stomach like a fist full of daggers.

"You disobey me again, and the consequences will be much worse. You will let no one touch you in such a way, even though I know you crave it. No, BECAUSE I know you crave it. There will be no pain for you until you learn who to give it to, and who not to. Like a bad child handing out his home address to strangers...You nearly died, and now you're under my care in an official sense, you shall follow my rules." He snarled, an actual sound from his throat that pulled the beautiful look away from him, made him glow a little less, made his features more ghastly. Michael whimpered, nodding his head too fast too hard, making his stomach recoil. But he had nothing left inside him, and it felt somehow like he'd be hollowed out. His friend was gone...he'd nearly died. And he...how was he going to...? He couldn't...he needed it...he..he loved it..

"I can't.." He started, but a hand flew, clawed fingers digging into his stomach again, and he shrieked, feeling the sharp nails split the skin as he bled from the so soft and wide pink scar. "You WILL. Or I'll kill you myself." The sapphire eyed vampire said before stalking away; going to the door.

"You're a harder dog to train than I thought. Don't make me regret my decision." He said simply, face and tone business-like again. He stopped with his hand reaching out to the handle, going to lick at his bloodied fingers with a little scowl. "You taste like sweet sickness and death."

He let those parting words seethe through the air before pulling the door open, stalking through as he took that cold and burning energy with him; leaving Michael with nothing but the sore sick aches of his healing body. He needed food, he needed rest, and he needed what he was no longer allowed to have. He couldn't have pain anymore..? How was that possible. He wouldn't survive...he'd...he'd go insane. The black haired vampire's parting words stung at him in a way he never thought words could. He'd always been pleased with how tasty Michael was. How sweet. To have him so utterly displeased in him...so terribly angry...enough to resort to petty means of punishment at every last turn..it hurt him, burned him inside. His hand clutched at his chest as he rolled over. He pulled his knees up despite the so thick pain it caused, bones left unmoved for days popping at the joints. He'd screwed up. He was lucky to even have Ezzy still.

"You know you shouldn't have, right?" Nathaniel's voice came from the still open doorway, along with it the scent of food. Michael didn't care what kind of food, or even if it was actually edible. He sat up like a shot; Head reeling at the sudden slipping and sliding of the bones in his head. He heaved, slapping a hand down to the bed to catch himself. He did NOT feel like making another trip to the floor. A hand was on his shoulder, holding him up as he had his little moment of unsteadiness. "Th-thanks.." Michael stammered, voice soft and hoarse. He couldn't remember screaming enough to make his throat feel or even SOUND like that, but he supposed he could have. He'd had a lot of 'not there' moments. The hand left his soulder, but slowly; as though Nathaniel wasn't quite sure that he was going to be able to sit up on his own just yet. He supposed it was just as well. He was pretty sure that the reason there were no reflective surfaces in the room was because he looked like shit. "Hey, no problem. You look like hell." Well, that was the answer to that.

"I wouldn't go skipping about for a while, and Jean-Claude's pretty pissed. About everything." The auburn haired lycanthrope shook his head, setting down a white paper bag that had the most delicious aroma coming from it. Michael moved forward, eyes wide as he focused on the bag. He had had a really sarcastic come back ready, was even going to flash all his new wounds, but the bag caught his attention like a claw to the face could have. He rolled his body forward and was rewarded with a thick stab of sudden pain through his stomach; making him growl and hiss as he sat back. He clenched hands in the bedsheets, curling one corner of his lip. This wasn't half as fun as he would have thought it would be, or perhaps if it had been caused by some really rowdy play. Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, actual surprise on his face.

"Haven't seen you get so close to kitty since that first time at the circus. Doesn't it count that they've been feeding you through tubes and stuff?" But then, michael wasn't listening. Well, alright, so he was hearing the words. But he wasn't making a single lick of sense of any of them. He did flick eyes to the other though, recognition still there. He let out a low pained mewl as he laid back on the bed; rolling onto one side. He hurt from top to bottom, and there was food just near his feet; Just where he could touch it and not eat it. This was torture and he didn't want to play. He couldn't reason out why the food wasn't closer, or in his stomach yet. Maybe Nathaniel was keeping it from him? Maybe he was punishing him too. Of course these weren't true, not a single one of them. But Michael simply couldn't understand that. Nathaniel gave a little laugh as he reached into the bag and drew out a thick sandwich; the contents of which michael wasn't too concerned with. "Here, you big baby." Nathaniel said with an expression of thick humor on his face. It was like dealing with a sick kitten that you knew would maul your face off if you did the wrong thing...but watching it pout was hilarious. Michael opened an eye, tilting his head toward the food before sitting up slowly. He acted as though he expected the other boy to suddenly reach out and strike him; laugh and take the food back. But no such thing happened, and laughing, Nathaniel handed Michael the food; Even though he seemed more inclined to stare at it a moment. "Alright alright. God.." He said, slipping from the bed as he put hands on his hips. The Moment that the other male was far enough away, Michael snatched up the sandwich and dove right into it. It was like watching a fish swallow up another fish. Ooh, there was chewing in there, but Nathaniel wasn't sure whether it was enough, or really whether he imagined it or not. He shook his head with a little sigh as he looked away.

"I think that's one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen." He said with a laugh, going to play with a stray string from his bluejeans. Michael finished the thing in a matter of mere moments, already peeking over to try and look inside the bag. "S'ere more?" He asked with a peppy tone to his voice, as though the food had suddenly erased all the ills he had. Of course, his stomach still hurt with one wide dull ache, and his entire being was sobbing and asking what it had ever done to him personally; But he was eating. And food was a wonderful thing.

"Yeah yeah, there's more. About two more of those in the bag. And you owe me for them; so don't go thanking me for being so nice or anything." the auburn haired lycanthrope said, grinning as he crossed his arms. This was the michael he liked to see. Well, somewhat. So he'd only said two things, and it was about food...but at least he wasn't rolling about, mewling and clawing at his stomach. Yeah, because that had been fun to watch.


End file.
